


Something Sweet

by cosmicallybrownie



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Bakery AU, Complete, F/M, Fluff, Food mention, NSFW, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicallybrownie/pseuds/cosmicallybrownie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalie inherits her mother's bakery, as well as her mother's optimistic spirit that makes the bakery feel like home for many. However, nothing can tempt Lucifer to come during the daylight hours. He may love chocolate, but he loves his image more. Natalie keeps her doors open for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was one of those days that you read about. The sky was bright and blue with the sun hanging obediently overhead, and not a cloud dared to pass in front of it. A stiff breeze blew through the city, but not so heavy to be a nuisance. Just light enough to blow your hair around and make the street signs flap, advertising all the local businesses to the wind.

“El Diablo” as they called him, or at least those who got close enough to read the red letters emblazoned on his back, rode down the streets of the city after dark, missing all of the beauty that the earlier day could offer him.

Unfortunately, the next day’s weather did not carry the same storybook quality, and rain clouded overhead.

Although she was a proponent of sunshine, Natalie enjoyed the rain. Not only for the renewal it brought to the earth, but also for the swell of customers it lured into the bakery. Her warm bakery was a perfect sanctuary from the rain and the smell always seemed to cut through the New York streets sharper when there was rain.

At the close of the day, Natalie turned off her oven and was walking to the door to flip the open sign over with a huff of finality. Her personal satisfaction of a day well done was cut short by a large man entering her bakery.

He shook the rain off his leather jacket and wiped his heavy books on the delicate welcome mat below his feet. At least he was polite. She heard him muttering something that sounded like Spanish as he looked around her little bakery, taking in all the pastel and lace. Fresh cut flowers sat in the windowsill and seemed to perk under his scrutiny and Natalie felt the need to hide her hands and the chipped nail polish in the pockets of her well-worn apron. Instead she smiled, and slipped back into the practiced ease of a greeting.

“Welcome to the Rose Hill Bakery! We’re delighted to have you here.”

He was, in fact, not delighted to be there.

Natalie didn’t seem to pick up on that, “Can I interest you in one of our homemade cupcakes?”

He said nothing, but approached the glass case full of sweets and Natalie scrambled to stand behind it, looking as dignified as she could. It may have been a futile effort with her messy hair and ruddy cheeks, but she was never too proud to try.

Standing silently over the case, he weighed his options.

Natalie tapped her fingers to ward off the silence. It didn’t help for long.

“Are you new to the area? Haven’t seen you in here before!” When he didn’t look up she continued, “It’s always nice to see new faces!”

“Chocolate,” he finally asserted, his voice accented and low.

“Pardon me?” Natalie choked out, about to swallow her tongue.

“You run a bakery, right? Chocolate,” and when she didn’t move, he added with a huff, “please.”

Finally understanding, she quickly grabbed the last chocolate cupcake, placed it in a plastic cupcake holder, and slid it over to the checkout.

“That’ll be $1.78, mister….” She trailed off, expecting him to give his name.

Instead he handed over the money, exact change, and a curt, “Do you make it a habit to annoy all your customers?”

Leaving Natalie in stunned silence, he grabbed his treat and turned to leave. With his back turned, she could read the bold letters that spelled out “El Diablo” on his back. She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles that threatened to escape.

“Have a good evening, El.”

He whipped around to glare at her, and threw the door open to leave, his mouth twisting into a snarl. The light chime of the bell above her door punctuated her giggles and drowned out the noise of his motorcycle roaring away.

* * *

The smell of freshly baked cookies snaked down the streets of the city, leading back to Natalie’s bakery. She was experimenting with a new style of chocolate cookies using, of all things, coconut oil. Natalie couldn’t seem to get on Pinterest or any baking tips website without seeing 101 Ways to Bake with Coconut Oil, so she figured it was time to try. The dough tasted fine and when she peeked in the oven, she saw that the cookies were rising like they should be.

But it all came down to the taste test.

Natalie was rushing that morning, and running late. Even though she lived above the bakery, she found it easy to consistently run late. There was always so much to do and something always managed to hide itself every morning, adding on a task to her morning routine. That particular day she needed to hang up signs offering a reward for the return of her toothbrush, because surely someone had stolen it and she hadn’t misplaced it.

So instead of tasting the cookies herself, on account of the peppermint she was nursing under her tongue, she threw the still-warm chocolate cookies into a glass jar by the register, and hung a chalkboard sign around its neck, reading “free taste test!”

 

Her regulars greeted her happily and took a cookie, happy to taste something new that Natalie whipped up.

 

By the end of the first hour, the trashcan was filled with cookies with exactly one bite taken from them. A colossal flop on her part. The bottom half of the jar was still filled with the disgusting chocolate cookies that she couldn’t even give away. But her customers were happy, and she was happy to see them all. 

 

It seemed there was nothing she could do to offend their good sensibilities, which was a small mercy on Natalie’s part, because innovative baking was not nearly as much her strength as her mother’s. She was a competent baker in regards to tried and true recipes, and they were the bread of her little bakery, and what mothers brought their children to taste. Carla had established the Rose Hill Bakery as a respectable place, and Natalie considered it an honor to continue to run it with the same gentle care her mother had.

However, the time always came for her to close. She never shooed customers out, but they always packed up their things and made their way out on time. They respected her, and she respected them.

The 8 o’clock hour came, right on time, and always as expected. It came quietly and with the patience of a well-practiced baker. Natalie was wiping down tables when she heard the bell above her door chime with the same sweet tone as it did every day. Looking up to announce that they were closed, she locked eyes with the same leather jacket who was there a couple days ago.

“El! I don’t think I need to tell you I never forget a face,” Natalie began, excitedly, “Welcome! What can I get for you?”

By the time she finished her tirade, he had already wandered up to the counter. Spotting the free cookies, he popped the lid of the jar and helped himself. Natalie realized what he was doing too late to warn him, but she saw no shame in that. She figured it would be great entertainment to watch his expression as he realized his mistake. Cramming half of the treat into his mouth, he chewed without thought and his face contorted in disgust.

“What the _fuck,_ girl? How do you fuck up cookies?” He spat the rest of the offending cookie straight into the trash.

She laughed at his brash words, “apparently coconut oil is not as magical as everyone seems to think.”

Abandoning the wet rag on the table, she walked up to the counter and leaned against it. A healthy spread of cupcakes and cookies remained from the day. The bunch was begging to be bagged and discounted for the next day. But she was happy to leave them out a little longer for the man brooding over them currently. Though she was closed, she felt no pressure to hurry him or rush him into choosing, she was content to let him look and take his time. Even the rough and tumble guys needed a break from all that, and a delicately decorated cupcake was just the way.

Huffing, he said, “do any of your other treats have coconut oil in them?”

“Sure don’t, fortunately. It might put me out of business. Does wonders in my hair, though,” Natalie said, thoughtfully.

El scoffed, and his shoulders tensed as he carefully looked over the treats confined in the glass case, “So you put it in cookies? What kind of idiot are you?”

Natalie smacked his hand off the glass case she wiped off mere minutes ago, “be nice or I won’t sell you anything. Besides, you came back after you ate one, didn’t you?”

He glared at her, but Natalie saw right through the fake animosity when he touched his finger to the glass to point out his cupcake of choice, making sure to leave a visible smudge. Natalie went around the counter to ring up the chocolate cupcake and watched him carefully. He was obviously tall and broad, and he had sharp features to compliment his personality. Despite all the distractions, leather, and chains, Natalie noticed he had lovely skin, smooth and dark, and she wondered briefly if he used coconut oil to keep it so soft.

Natalie figured she’d better keep that thought to herself, and handed the cupcake over. He took it without a thank you and walked out.

“Goodbye, El,” Natalie said, and then tacked on a chipper, “hope to see you again soon!”

He shut the door firmly behind him, the bell’s ting a sharp contrast to his obvious attitude. He was so dramatic; Natalie was sure there was more to him. It was almost comical to see his huge frame and all the leather within the four pastel walls of her bakery, and she thought he might be surrounded by the most pink he’d seen since the birth canal.

She really did hope he would come back.


	2. Chapter 2

It was cold, but not uncomfortable yet, more like the kind of cold that makes you want a soft scarf around your neck and something hot in your hands. It was precisely the kind of cold that made Natalie sell hot chocolate at an alarmingly fast rate. The kettle never cooled so it was no wonder she burnt herself. It was bound to happen among all the bustle of single-handedly running the bakery, but following her mother’s echoing advice, she ran water over her hand until the sting faded and bandaged it. Then she went back to work.

Luckily it was her left hand, and she could still snap the plastic packages shut and make proper change. When she slipped back into the rhythm of the day, she hardly noticed it. She was too busy trying to handle the crowd lured in by the chilly autumn day. It was still early in the season, but she was already excited to start selling pumpkin everything.

It was the one redeemable thing about the chilly season, and Natalie bought into all of it. The candles, coffee, cookies, lotion, all of it. She briefly wondered if she left the pumpkin candle in her room burning.

After deciding that no, she did blow the candle out, she smiled out at her happy crowd of customers. Despite the small space, it never felt crowded and customers filed precisely in and out. Some of them took their time, sitting at one of the small tables or booths, chattering on happily about whatever was happening outside of the bright bakery.

Gentle conversation always filled the building, with idle talk about the world around them. Voices were always welcome in her bakery, and she heard more accents and languages than she could name. It was always so interesting to see the diversity that her little bakery pulled in, and she wondered how far the Rose Hill Bakery carried into the streets of New York.

Briefly, Natalie allowed herself to think of the man who came to her bakery after close, and she puzzled over his Hispanic accent. His voice was deep and his accent rich, coating each of his words in honey and Natalie wondered how his voice would sound when he spoke Spanish.

The bell above the door broke through that thought, however, and Natalie smiled at the customers walking through the door. They walked out with her last chocolate cupcakes in hand and big smiles on their faces and she watched with a gentle expression as they left. The rest of the customers soon followed suit as the day slowly wound down and the sun disappeared beyond the skyline.

* * *

 

Clouds gathered overhead, making the 8 o’clock hour darker than it already was, so Natalie kept the booth lights on to make the bakery feel less obscure as she wiped down tables and cleaned windows. After painfully ringing out the rag, Natalie realized that holding the broom to sweep wasn’t going to be painless thanks to her burn.

Sighing, she grabbed the old wooden broom anyway and carried it out to the dining area. When she was a little girl, Natalie pictured that she was Cinderella and she had to wear an old apron and sweep the floors perfectly clean so she could go to the ball. She would always hum to herself and sweep the broom in short strokes like she watched Cinderella do a hundred times on the old VHS tape. After the floor was clean, she’d pull off her apron and spin around, ready to go to the ball.

Natalie still hummed the same tune, and the gentle notes were lovingly practiced. Her song was interrupted by the chime of the bell above her door and Natalie’s head snapped up, half-heartedly expecting her Prince Charming to be standing in the doorway.

Instead it was just El and Natalie smiled, tossing her usual greeting his way.

Watching her for a beat, he noticed that she was grimacing a little while she was sweeping under the tables and his eyebrows knitted together for a moment before he walked up to inspect the treats she was offering. His eyes flicked back to her a couple times, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek when he heard her hum.

Leaning on the case, he noticed she hadn’t wiped it down yet, even though she normally had it done when he arrived, and he could count the individual fingerprints on its surface. Some of them smudged together but he could see places lower down where kids had pressed both palms to the surface and pointed.

Finally, he discovered the cause for the itch in his throat, “the fuck, you’re out of chocolate?”

“Mhmm,” Natalie hummed, “I sold out earlier.”

He tapped his knuckle on the offending glass, “What the fuck, girl. I thought you ran a bakery?”

“I do, El. Maybe if you would actually come when I was open,” catching his glare, she rolled her eyes, “Well what do you want me to do? Make another just for you?”

“Yes.”

There was no humor in his voice and Natalie stopped sweeping to look up at him. He leaned a hip against the side of the case and held eye contact while Natalie sighed.

“And why would I do that?”

He grinned, showing off his slightly pointed teeth, “I’m a polite, paying customer.”

Huffing out another dramatic sigh, she grabbed the broom and walked to stand behind the counter. She picked up a bowl and a spatula and sat them down on her clean counter.

“I don’t know about polite, El Groucho,” Natalie said, wielding the utensil like a weapon.

Clutching a hand dramatically to his chest and successfully wrinkling his smooth button up, he deadpanned, “oh, I’m so hurt. Hurry up.”

Dropping the spoon into the bag of flour, Natalie stepped away from her baking station. She pushed her sleeves up and grabbed the broom, and threw it at him. He caught it on reflex and held it away from him like it was dirty.

“If you’re gonna have a busy mouth, you’re gonna have busy hands. Sweep.”

Natalie returned to her baking station, leaving him shocked as he stared at the broom in his hands.

He opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off, “I burnt myself earlier, do me a favor.”

Glancing at her bandaged hand, he shut his mouth and returned to where she’d been sweeping. They worked in silence for a moment before he resumed complaining. Natalie barely processed his words, happy to lose herself in the peace of baking. When she finally put the cupcakes into the oven to bake, she wiped her hands on her apron and set a timer.

She turned around to be met with El’s hard stare, “are you deaf, girl?”

“My name isn’t girl, it’s Natalie,” she said calmly while pushing past him to walk to the back of the bakery display.

He watched her remove the treats and put them into plastic containers to store until tomorrow. He grabbed a stack of them from her injured hand moments before they all toppled to the ground and sat them down.

“Jesus, girl, are you trying to make a mess?”

She grabbed another container to fill, “thank you.”

When the next one was full she handed it to him and he snapped it shut, then stacked it. By the time the case was cleaned out, they had worked out a rhythm. Natalie was grateful for the help and appreciated that he spared her stress on her injured hand. Expressing this, El ducked his head, ignoring her thanks as he turned to put neon stickers reading ‘50% off!’ on the cases, as per her instructions.

Feeling sufficiently snubbed, she walked around to the other side of the case to wipe it down and clear away all of the marks of the day. Natalie smiled down at the case as she scrubbed it, remembering all the smiling faces of the day. She crouched to wipe away the tiny fingerprints last, and giggled at the memory of one little boy with deep dimples who got icing all over his tiny face before even getting one bite out of his cupcake.

Erasing the last of the smudges, she sprung back up and put the supplies away. She bumped into El on her way to the cabinet, but he was too busy inspecting her array of sprinkles to apologize.

Walking back to check on the cupcakes, she promised, “play your cards right and I’ll let you pick your own sprinkles.”

He scoffed at her flippant tone, but grabbed the bottle of chocolate sprinkles nonetheless. They stood in silence for a moment before Natalie decided that was enough and hopped up to sit on the counter. She told El the story of the bakery and how it was her mother’s, and he listened without speaking, merely nodding when appropriate.

The oven timer scared them both and Natalie shifted to hop off the counter with a deep sigh.

El held his hand up before she could get down though, “I’ll get it,” and when he saw her smile, he added, “I don’t wanna have to deal with you getting burnt _again_.”

He brought the cupcakes and icing to Natalie, and watched her carefully as she iced them, her handiwork way sloppier than normal since she was working with one hand. The first two were a mess before he huffed and held the cupcake for her. Natalie iced the remaining cupcakes happily, dipping from the bowl of icing in her lap. She handed El the spoon to lick as he carefully shook chocolate sprinkles onto the cupcakes.

He leaned against the counter Natalie was perched on as they ate cupcakes, and this time they sat in content silence. Natalie hummed while she made a mess with her cupcake and El laughed at her wreck of an apron.

“How,” El asked, “can you possibly run a bakery when you make such a mess with one cupcake?”

Instead of responding, Natalie reached over and smeared icing on his face from her cupcake and broke into a new peal of giggles as he cursed.

Eventually shooing him out with the remaining imperfect cupcakes in hand, she wished him goodnight and climbed the stairs to her room after deciding to leave the chocolate mess for tomorrow. She was greeted with the powerful smell of pumpkin when she entered her room, and she watched the last flicker of her candle before it smoked out. Ignoring it, Natalie stripped down and flopped into bed.

As she stared up at the ceiling, her mind swirled with the activity of the day. As she finally fell asleep, she wondered if she left the oven on.


	3. Chapter 3

Pumpkin pie filled the shelves of Natalie’s bakery, ushering in the urgency of the approaching Thanksgiving Day. The coat rack Natalie hung in the corner of the bakery never got a rest this time of year, and colorful coats and scarves belonging to colorful people filled the bakery with warmth. Of course in the bustle of the busy season, people often forgot small things, so next to the coat rack was a lost and found basket, filled with hats, scarves, and single gloves of all sizes that eagerly awaited the return of their match.  

With the Thanksgiving season, came the Thanksgiving play at the elementary school. This year’s show featured the graduating 5th grade class, the kids all playing roles ranging from pilgrims and Native Americans, to the Thanksgiving turkey.

Every year since Natalie’s older brother Max played the role of cranberry sauce, the Rose Hill Bakery had donated cupcakes for the whole cast of the play and the patient teachers who directed it. The problem was, this particular year necessitated 120 cupcakes so each student and teacher would get one, (of course, leaving a safe dozen left over for counting error) which created a lot of baking for one person.

Looking out at her spread of edible googly eyes and candy corn to form turkey tail feathers, Natalie sighed and wondered what she got herself into. She debated on just making up batches with icing in fall colors, but decided against it when she pictured the kids and how hard they must be working on the play.

The only problem was finding time to make, ice, and decorate all the cupcakes. Working through downtimes to get as many done as possible hadn’t even got her a third of the way done, she only had 36 cute turkeys to show for her day’s labor. She couldn’t disappoint the kids, however. Glancing over to the corkboard covered in construction paper thank you notes decorated with crayons and glitter, Natalie took a deep breath, dumping the flour into the bowl with more vigor than necessary.

Wiping the white powder off her fingers, Natalie reached for the next ingredients, humming happily. The last of her customers were idly eating and chatting. She heard someone mention it was going to rain tomorrow and she made a mental note to remember to close her window that night.

Popping another two dozen cupcakes in the oven to bake, she repeated the process of making the batter, the electric mixer whirring its familiar rhythmic hum.

Logically, Natalie knew she should probably upgrade her electric mixer. She had the funds to do so, easily, but the sentimental attachment to the small handheld mixer with the broken handle was too strong to replace. The mixer, affectionately called Dot after Natalie’s great grandma, was a gift from its namesake to Carla when she first opened the bakery.

Dot only operated at two speeds now: slow, and a bit faster. Its handle was broken off, and the 70s style design on the sides had long worn off, leaving behind only the faded yellow color. But Dot still ran, consistent as always, and Natalie soon lost herself in the routine of baking.

She was always amazed at how easily her hands took over baking, leaving her mind to wander aimlessly, thinking of things she saw on Pinterest, creating lists of things she needed from the grocery store, and wondering if it would really rain tomorrow. Lately her mind often brought up images of El, and she thought about him more often than she would like him to know. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she wondered what he did during the day, and if he had a job?

She imagined hiring him, but the thought of him wearing a frilly pink apron and matching chef’s hat while standing behind the counter shook her body with giggles. She might lose too much business that way, due to her customers laughing their way out the door.

Missing the chime of the door’s bell in her laughter, she was shocked by the familiar accented voice of El asking, “do you always laugh at bowls of batter?”

Struggling to keep her composure, she bit back a laugh as the image of him in pink resurfaced. He purposefully trailed his fingers across her glass case as he walked around to stand beside her. Lightly elbowing him in the side as payback, she poured the batter into lined cupcake tins to put in the oven.

Snatching the scraped bowl, he dragged his finger along the bottom to catch the last bits of the chocolate batter and popped it in his mouth.

Natalie stood up from putting the sheets in the oven and turned to him, “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten! I was just thinking about you.”

He froze, finger still in his mouth, before mumbling something she didn’t understand and turning away.

He glanced out at the bakery, fingerprints still scattered across the display case, and crumbs and trash littering the table and floor. A frown tugged on his lips, it wasn’t normal for her bakery to be in such a disarray at this time. Somehow without his consent, he picked up the rag and disinfectant he had seen her use, and started wiping down the tables.

He didn’t think anything of it until he heard her sigh happily.

“Thank you so much, I’m so swamped tonight trying to bake for the elementary school. I was half hoping you’d show up so I could put those hands of yours to good use.”

He shifted his weight to his other foot and kept scrubbing tables, trying his best not to look up at her.

Nevertheless, his eyes flicked up just in time to watch her mixer fling a glob of batter onto her cheek. Biting back his grin, he rolled the sleeves of his button up and wiped down the next table.

She either didn’t notice his silence, or chose to ignore it as she continued, “it’s for the Thanksgiving play at the same elementary school I went to! I was Christopher Columbus, and they taped this horrible beard on me. It itched so bad, and fell off the third time I spoke,” she paused, something sad lingering behind her eyes, “but I kept to the role, because I knew Mom was gonna let us have cupcakes afterwards.”

She looked like she was somewhere far away, and he watched her chew on her bottom lip. It wasn’t the first time he noticed that nervous tick of hers.

When he finished wiping down the tables, he grabbed the broom from the corner he knew she tucked it in. He started in the corner by the booths, furthest from her.

He was hyperfocused on the checkered linoleum floor, and almost missed her question.

“I’m born and bred New York, but what about you? Where are you from?”

He swept a crumpled napkin into the pile of crumbs he was collecting, and thought about his answer for a moment before deciding to give her the truth.

“Mexico.”

When he didn’t continue, she prompted, “any family?”

He sighed, not prepared to share, “yeah, I came from a big family. Most of them are still in Mexico, but a couple came with me when I moved to the United States. My move caused a big family divide though, and I’m not really in contact with my family in Mexico anymore. Less tension this way.”

Natalie listened to his story thoughtfully before carefully adding, “that sucks, dude.”

It did suck. But he wasn’t going to admit that.

Shaking off the heavy conversation, he turned her attention back towards the cupcakes, “how many of those are you planning on making tonight, girl?”

Natalie paused, ticking off counts in her head and then smiled, “the last ones are in the oven right now. Then you can help me ice and decorate them!”

He paused sweeping to hold his hands up, “whoa whoa, girl. I didn’t come here to help you decorate cupcakes all night.”

“What if I let you eat one?”

“Fine.”

A wide grin overtook her face when he offered no further protest and she prepared the icing. Handing him a bag, she demonstrated the motions a few times and then watched him ice one.

It wasn’t perfect, but neither was she when she first started. Giving him a chocolate smeared thumbs up, she turned her attention back to icing. He iced a lot slower than her, cursing every so often when he made a mistake.

He completely missed a cupcake once, and cried, “Look this is all new to me.”

She giggled, “maybe I ought to get you an apron, for being such good help.”

She tried to bump his hip with hers, but she was considerably short when compared to him, and just managed to bump his thigh. He iced another cupcake without looking at her, and he took a moment to wonder how much of his slow progress was due to Natalie.

His eyes flicked over to her profile again, taking in the stray hairs that framed her face and watching the way she bit her bottom lip. Her forehead was creased in concentration, but she worked fast, her hands flying. He focused back on his own pile of cupcakes, determined to finish before she did.

In the end, she helped him ice the rest of his, and her pile of cupcakes was much larger than his own. She shot him a cocky look, and he rolled his eyes. No way in hell he was letting her know he hated to lose.

Kneeling down beside him, she reached for a round bowl, overflowing with something he couldn’t make out in the shadows. However, when she slapped the bowl on the table, he was suddenly face to face with hundreds of googly eyes. He tentatively ate one, slightly perturbed by the crunchy sugar of the decoration.

Natalie slapped his hand away, “those aren’t for eating, hombro”

This time he did laugh, a loud rumble that started in his chest and pushed out, “did you just call me a shoulder?”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Why, thank you!”

“Shut up and help me open the bags of candy corn,” she grunted, throwing a bag at his chest.

She showed him how to arrange the decorations to make the cupcakes look like turkeys, and they quickly fell into a routine. Natalie made light talk, explaining the tradition of the Thanksgiving play and what a staple it was in the community.

He shuddered to think that they still used the same costumes since 1978.

The decorating went a lot smoother than icing, and the pair managed to decorate and box up all 120 cupcakes swiftly.

Natalie was thrilled, and marveled how much easier it was to make progress when she had help. Maybe she should consider an employee…. But she shook the thought away as she watched El admire the spread of cupcakes.

She held her hand up, and he met her for a high five. Their hands briefly stuck together, the chocolate icing working as cement for a moment. Natalie giggled, then dragged him over to the sink to wash their hands. Scrubbing his hands, he briefly registered that the soap smelled of the same vanilla scent that Natalie seemed to carry with her. It was comforting somehow.

He walked over with her to the drawer next to her oven, knowing she stashed ratty hand towels there. They bumped arms and he found himself looking down at her. Forgetting his freshly washed hands, he reached up to brush away a spot of icing on her cheek. He heard her breath hitch, and he flinched away like she had burned him.

He didn’t step back, however. Instead he leaned forward, close enough for their chests to brush and him to feel the softness of her hair against his jaw, and he wondered if his skin was still smooth from shaving that morning. He shook the thought away as he turned the heat of the oven off.

He took a step back and spoke, his voice lower than predicted, “No estaré aqui siempre para apagar el horno por ti.”

Natalie couldn’t focus on his words other than to realize that they were in Spanish. No, her thoughts were in a jumble and all she picked out was the smell of his cologne around her. It was so clean and musky against the sweetness of the bakery that it made her head swim.

Natalie felt her face burn when he stepped away from her, and he was at the door before she knew what was happening.

She snapped out of it when she heard the bell chime, “wait!”

He hesitated in the doorframe and she continued, “I’ll need help carrying all of these cupcakes to the elementary school tomorrow. Would you mind stopping by?”

He didn’t answer, but she thought she caught a slight nod as the door shut.

She didn’t realize her heart was pounding until she heard his motorcycle roar away.


	4. Chapter 4

The day was tauntingly gorgeous, and the blue sky was crisp and bright. Perfect white clouds hung gently against the deep blue with a gentle breeze blowing them around, and luring the unsuspecting outside. Daring to step out and open the door for a guest, cold air bit at Natalie’s skin, flushing her cheeks pink.

The bitter cold was a shocking contrast to the beautiful day, and Natalie pouted as she held her hands over the oven, trying to coax warmth back into her fingers. It was a strange thing indeed to be cold in a bakery.

Shrugging the thoughts away, she glanced over to the boxes of cupcakes stacked high on her counter. She counted them again and took a deep breath. There was a sign posted on the door to remind her customers that the bakery would be closing down early tonight. She’d need to leave early to get the cupcakes over to school in time.

And hopefully she’d have the hands of a certain night owl to help her.

As the clock began counting its slow tick of the last half hour of the day, excitement bubbled inside of Natalie for reasons she couldn’t explain. She supposed the Thanksgiving play was an exciting evening, and all the kids would be so happy to see her. Of course, anyone would be excited to see someone giving them free cupcakes.

Wiping down the same table for a third time, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. The last customers bid her goodnight and she moved to wipe their table down, thankful that they had taken their trash with them.

The door gently shut behind the girls, only to be opened again immediately. The bell sounded heavy as cold air swept into the bakery, and Natalie crouched down to pick up a straw wrapper beneath a table.

“Sorry, we’re closing early this evening,” she called.

A familiar, accented voice responded, “I know, that’s why I’m here.”

Springing up too fast, Natalie crashed her head on the side of the table and stood up cursing.

Biting his lip to suppress a grin, he joked, “Looks like you may need more help than I originally thought. I didn’t plan for a concussion.”

Natalie walked back to the kitchen rubbing her forehead, “Shut up, El, that hurt.”

“Maybe you should be more careful.”

“Maybe you should be less of a jerk.”

A smile split across his face, and he stepped in front of Natalie “You’re going to be this rude when I’m here to help you? I’m surprised at you, girl.”

Shoving him aside, she grabbed her keys off the hook and gestured for him to grab some boxes.

“My name is Natalie, not girl. You can’t call me ‘girl’ like I’m five, El.”

“Fine, but my names Lucifer, not El. Got it?”

“I got it, Luce,” she said, bumping her hip with his.

Sighing loud enough for her to hear, he picked up several boxes of cupcakes and followed her out the back door. Stacking the boxes carefully in the trunk of her old car, he helped her load the whole stack, piling the trunk high with boxes of cupcakes.

Grabbing the last box, Natalie double checked that the front door was locked while Luce checked to make sure her oven was off.

After verifying that she wouldn’t burn her kitchen down, she handed him the last box to put in the trunk while she got in the car.

Luce slammed the trunk shut, and walked around the side of the car to stand next to Natalie.

“Hey, I just wanted to remind you that you still owe me a cupcake for all this free manual labor.”

Giggling, Natalie answered, “yeah, I know. C’mon, get in, you can have one afterwards.”

His forehead creased and he leaned closer, “No, I’m not going with you. I don’t do children. Or elementary schools. Or people in general.”

Disappointment clouded on Natalie’s face and her words were softer, “What if I say please?”

Shifting his weight, Lucifer shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and tilted his head up. The white clouds from earlier were now tinted pink and orange as the sun set, the view of it hidden behind the crowded buildings.  

Finally, he nodded slowly and said, “But I get your cupcake too.”

After Natalie’s enthusiastic “yes!” Luce got in the car and struggled with the seatbelt while she backed out of the narrow alley.

Pulling into the street, she finally said, “press the button down when you put it in, and then it’ll latch.”

Sure enough, the belt clicked into place and Natalie drove on. The colorful beaded necklaces around her rear view mirror jingled against each other every time there was an imperfection in the road and after Natalie reached to change the radio station for the fourth time in a minute, Luce batted her hand away.

He put on some preset station, and listened silently as a soft rock song filled the car. He recognized the tune but not the words, and sat back in his seat, content to watch Natalie bob her head and sing along, her words slightly jumbling during the fast parts. A smile threatened to bloom on his face, watching her sing the song as passionately as she bakes and talks and laughs.

The muted tones of the sunset washed over her face as she drove, painting her face in soft shadows while her hair blazed bright red against her jacket.

The song faded out and another one came on, the melody quicker and she sang along more happily to the bright pop song. Lucifer found himself wishing he knew the words so he could sing with her, but quickly shook off the thought. She could clearly handle it herself.

Although Lucifer had lived in the area for a long time, he was unsure exactly where the elementary school was and the beaten down building came into view too quickly for his liking. The old brick exterior was dark, and the whole building seemed to sag, heavy from years of use.

The parking lot was still empty, and they were able to find a close parking spot to the back. She backed into a spot and sprung out of the car faster than he could process, and a back door to the school flew open, a broad man stepping out.

“Natalie! Good to see you!”

As if on cue, a pink haired girl appeared from behind him and stepped forward to wrap Natalie in a hug.

“You always smell so good,” the girl mumbled into Natalie’s hair.

“You too, Sheila,” Natalie laughed, “Are the kids excited, Ipos?”

“Naturally,” he said, “they love coming together to work on this.”

Ushering her inside, Natalie looked over the backstage action of the theatre and laughed at the sight of all the props in place, ready to go for tonight.

After a moment of grumbling, Luce popped the trunk and grabbed several boxes of cupcakes and followed Natalie.

“Just wait until you see the cupcakes this year, Sheila, they’re – oh yeah, sorry.” Natalie rambled to the pink haired girl she was linking arms with. The man walked ahead of them and directed them around the corner and suddenly they were greeted by 100 children in costumes.

“Hello!” Natalie began, her tone high and peppy, “I’m so excited to see you guys perform tonight!”

Trying to curb his discomfort, Luce sat the boxes down on a cleared off table and walked back out to get the rest of the boxes of cupcakes.

He brought them in a couple at a time while Natalie spoke to the children. When there were no more to bring in, he locked her car up and took up a position in the corner, leaning against the wall. Partly to keep out of the way, and also to hide the bold “El Diablo” spelled out on his back.

After getting bored with the audience, Lucifer switched back to watching Natalie. Her hands were flying and there was a lightness in her eyes that was brighter than usual, making something in his gut clench. The kids were enraptured, watching her like there was the secret to life in her boxes, instead of sugary treats.

Eventually, she thanked the kids for their time and returned to stand by his side while Sheila and Ipos gave the children last minute instructions on what to do.

The joy still lingered in her eyes, and Natalie stood close enough to him to smell the rich leather of his jacket and feel his warmth. She resisted the temptation to lean further into him, her thin jacket would have to be enough protection against the cold school.

Sheila clapped and the children all stood and began filing out of the room into the backstage area to wait. Shuffling and soft talking from the gathering audience could be heard from in front of the thick red curtain hiding the children from view.

The last boy out of the room stopped briefly to grab Luce’s arm and whisper to him “Por qué estás aquí?” His voice dropped lower to ask, “Eres el Diablo? De verdad?”

Instead of answering, Luce merely brought a finger up to his lips and winked at the young child.

Ignoring the look Natalie gave him, Lucifer followed her as she walked out the door and cut through the curtain to have a seat in the audience. Weaving through the crowd, she linked her arm through his and dragged him towards two empty seats in the third row.

She didn’t unlink arms with him when they sat down, and he obediently sat next to her and watched happiness dance on her face throughout the show. The jokes were cheesy and predictable and the costumes were well worn, but Natalie enjoyed it.

She remembered when she first came out on stage, squinting against the lights in search of her mother’s face in the crowd. It had been easy to pick out her mom’s bright hair and wide smile in the crowd, and it had meant so much to Natalie to see her mom there. The memory was bittersweet and she relaxed further against Luce, her attention back on the show.

Her fingers were cold against his wrist, and she traced them over the bone over and over. Her gentle touch threatened to chase a shiver down his spine, but he shoved it aside, not wanting her to pull away. Her proximity to him was almost dizzying, and he found it hard to focus on the production.

If he leaned down another inch, he could press his cheek to her hair. He wondered how soft it would feel, but quickly chased the thought away in favor of the play, the cupcakes, the weather, anything else. Setting his jaw, he flexed his hand in an attempt to regain control of his arm, but her fingers swept over his skin again in her same gentle rhythm and his muscles relaxed involuntarily.

At last, the final scene came and Natalie mouthed the words of the song in time with the children on stage. As the children grabbed hands and bowed, she all but tore her arm from Luce’s grip and shot to her feet to clap. The rest of the theatre quickly stood with her, clapping and cheering. Slowly standing, he joined in the applause, a small bubble of happiness rising in his throat.

Leading him backstage, she practically ran to the back room, stopping only to praise every child she saw for their wonderful performance. She was so impressed with them all, and it always warmed her heart to see all the children come together to perform.

Handing boxes to Lucifer, she grabbed a stack herself and carried them out to the stage, handing them out to kids with a smile and a ‘good job!’

Glancing over, she saw the smallest grin tug on Luce’s mouth as he handed out cupcake after cupcake. Once all the children and teachers were accounted for and given a cupcake, she sat the extras on the edge of the stage for parents to enjoy as they talked to their children and took pictures.

Finally out of cupcakes to hand out, she looked up to find Luce, only to see him sitting on the floor with the same young boy who spoke to him earlier. The young boy was chattering on in Spanish to Luce, his face lighting up as he told a story that Natalie couldn’t understand. Natalie locked eyes with Lucifer for a moment and his expression was softer than she had ever seen it.

She froze, her lips slightly parting, in shock at the gentleness on his face. His lips pulled into lopsided smile and Natalie’s face felt warm despite the chilly theatre air.

The young boy leaned over and cupped his hand over his mouth to whisper something to Luce in that moment, and in turn, he swatted the child away and tore his gaze from Natalie, looking anywhere but at her. She puzzled over what the child might have said, but was distracted by a parent pulling her aside to compliment the cupcakes.

After the excitement had finally calmed down and Natalie had said her goodbyes, she drove Luce back to the bakery to get his motorcycle. The night had graduated from chilly to cold, and Natalie shivered in the dark as she bid him goodnight.

Swinging a leg over his motorcycle, he said, “You know, I never got my cupcake as payment. Or yours, for that matter. I guess I’ll just have to come back to collect on your debt. I might even charge interest.”

She nodded, despite knowing it was too dark for him to see, and she watched the taillights of his bike until they were swallowed by the black of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

One day passed, then two. Then a week came and went, leaving the Thanksgiving holiday behind in a blur of celebration and good food. The days grew shorter and darker, leaving the quaint bakery drowsy hours before closing time. Slowly muddling through the motions of cleaning her bakery with only soft overhead light, Natalie couldn’t quite curb the hope that eventually Lucifer would walk through her doors.

He wouldn’t come today, however.

Natalie checked the locks one last time before flicking the lights off and beginning the long climb of stairs up into her room above the bakery. She counted imperfections on her white ceiling until they all blurred together and she fell asleep on top of her blankets. The cold woke her a few hours later and she rolled out of bed for just enough time to kick her shoes off, then kick the worthless space heater she tried to set up in her room.

Groaning under her breath, Natalie limped to her bathroom and quickly scrubbed her face with warm water before falling back in to bed, under her covers this time. She dreamt of Luce’s face, and words in a language she didn’t speak. However, the memory of the dream was washed away with a morning shower, the water hot enough to make Natalie’s skin pink.

Pulling on a thick sweater and throwing her still wet hair up, Natalie trudged downstairs, relieved that it was Sunday and she was closed until later in the afternoon.

Turning on Christmas music loud enough to drown her thoughts out, Natalie began pulling box after box out of storage, each one brimming with enough tinsel and lights to choke an elf. She loved Christmas and all the things that came with it, but the decorations were one of Natalie’s favorite parts. She began her joyful ministrations of hanging up garland and white lights, quickly turning the bakery into a winter wonderland.

She giggled at the thought while she hung snowflakes in the windows. For a finishing touch, she hung mistletoe right above the register and grinned, thinking of all the conversations and cheek kisses it would lead to. Yes, she loved Christmas and the camaraderie that came with it.

Finally, the bakery met her high standards and she flipped the sign to open, welcoming people inside the warm bakery. Everyone who stepped in paused, taking in the decorations with a smile or a cocked eyebrow. Maybe she went overboard, but the faces of the children were worth it.

She watched them as their eyes swept over the lights, the snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, the shiny tinsel, and the bright colors of her cupcakes decorated for the season. Their faces split into smiles, and the kids all but sealed themselves to the glass of her display case, trying to pick out the prettiest cupcake or cookie.

It was only after her bakery was nearly filled that she realized she had left the Christmas tree in storage. She would just have to get it out after closing, and for a brief second, pictured putting it up with Lucifer. It would be easy with his height, he could easily decorate the top of the tree, and put the star on top without having to drag a chair over to stand on. Maybe she would wait until his next visit, but hesitated when she realized she didn’t know when that would be.

She regretted never getting his phone number, in waiting for the opportunity to ask, she may have lost contact with him. But he would be back, she was sure of it.

The work day passed quickly, and Natalie did her best to steer her thoughts clear of all things Luce. Several customers planted kisses on her cheek, as per mistletoe rules, and brightened Natalie’s day a few notches every time. A pair of girls stood hand in hand in front of her register and turned to kiss each other after spotting the mistletoe and it brought a smile to Natalie’s face to see the spirit of the holiday traditions at work.

Natalie watched the girls walk out, their heads bent together in laughter over something, and smiled at their interlocked hands. Her smile faded when she realized she would sit at the dinner table at Christmas alone this year. Again.

It was always awkward, Max had been together with his boyfriend for almost three years, but Natalie came alone year after year. Her father did his best to keep an upbeat conversation going, but Max and Dylan always were more focused on each other than the rest of the family. It was easier when Carla was alive, but Alex did his best to make Christmas as homey as ever. And Natalie was long past blaming holiday blues on her dad.

He was trying.

A sudden kiss on her cheek shook Natalie out of her momentary melancholy and she looked up into the warm eyes of a regular customer. The woman’s eyes were a soft brown and Natalie felt her shoulders relax as she fell back into the rhythm of making sales and making change.

The dark of the close of day came sooner than she wanted, and suddenly the thought of being alone in her wide, warm bakery shot a cold shiver down her spine as loneliness choked her.

Despite all her warm customers and regulars, at the end of the day, Natalie still climbed the stairs alone and fell into a cold bed.

She managed to avoid the oppressive loneliness that came with darkness with the help of a certain man recently, but as his visits ceased, so did her sense of comfort that came with night.

When the time came to flip her open sign over, she made sure to lock the door behind her. The darkness of the bakery seemed to linger, despite the twinkling Christmas lights and overhead lights. Trying to shake it off, Natalie found the box containing the Christmas tree and pulled it across the floor to the corner spot it normally sits in.

Slowly unpacking the artificial tree, she set it up, wincing as the plastic branches scraped her arms and caught on her apron. Finally stepping back, Natalie looked the tree up and down before deciding that it was adequately fluffed. Placing her hands on her hips, she was about to turn to find the box filled with ornaments and lights when a knock on her door made her jump out of her skin.

Trying (and failing) to maintain her composure, Natalie peeked around the tree to see Luce standing outside, muscles tight against the cold night.

Tripping over her own feet, Natalie scrambled to the door, opening it hastily and ushering Luce inside. Sighing against the sudden warmth, his muscles visibly relaxed. The sleepy temperature of the dim bakery made his trek there worth it, and suddenly his minute of hesitation about knocking on the door seemed so petty.

It was almost surreal to see his tall frame in her bakery again, and Natalie hesitated, unable to find words to express all of her thoughts in that moments.

Instead she nodded, blurting out, “I missed you,”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Offering a nod instead, he tore his gaze from hers and busied himself removing his heavy leather jacket. His hands twitched restlessly before he shoved them into the pockets of his jeans, and Natalie looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his broad hands.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she chewed on her lip, looking everywhere except at him.  Lucifer was equally hesitant to meet her gaze, and being in the same room with her did nothing to ease the guilt that had been gnawing at his stomach for days. He spotted the Christmas tree and tilted his head, frowning.

“Hey, your tree is looking a little naked.”

An easy smile grew on her face and she nodded, “perfect, I was hoping you could help with this. You’ve got a head of height on me, so you’ve won the honor of putting the star on top of the tree.”

Picking up the box she pointed to with ease, he carried it over to where she stood and opened it, revealing enough Christmas ornaments to cover three trees.

“That makes sense. I’m taller, therefore closer to the stars.”

“Your name is literally Lucifer though, and last time I checked, Lucifer is way down in hell.”

“You know, I wasn’t exactly consulted when my parents named me. Besides, Lucifer means morning star. So, technically, I am a star.”

“Maybe if you could manage to hang these ornaments better, I would be more inclined to believe that.”

Elbowing him lightly, Natalie pushed past him to hang ornaments on the back side of the tree. No one would see that side, but she figured it just wasn’t fair to leave one side bare. Besides, she had more than enough ornaments to accommodate.

Luce watched Natalie out of the corner of his eye, biting back a grin as he watched her precisely decide where each ornament was going to go. She hung each one with such care that he felt sloppy by comparison. She held the ornament for a moment, her thumb rubbing over it absentmindedly, before gently hanging it on a branch, taking a moment to ensure it was secure and wouldn’t fall.

Tapping gently on a bright red bulb, he mused, “these are all plastic.”

“Yep,” Natalie nodded, “you’d be surprised how often kids pull them off and drop them. It’s just safer.”

Her point was proved seconds later when Natalie accidentally sent three ornaments clattering to the ground.

Luce scooped them up and offered them to her with a sarcastic, “just the kids drop them?”

Natalie scowled at him before turning her attention back to the tree and hanging the last ornaments. Taking a step back, she brushed her hair out of her face and began to walk around the tree, inspecting it at all angles for any gaps in décor.

Deciding it was sufficiently covered, Natalie gingerly handed Luce a star tree topper. The shiny gold glitter was missing in several spots and bits of the brass wire frame were sticking out, but Luce could clearly see the sentimental value in such a worn down star, and he hung it with as much care as he could manage.

Natalie thanked him, and the sincerity in her voice made his throat tighten, and he nodded, not trusting his words.

They admired the tree together for a moment, though Lucifer’s focus was mainly on Natalie. The joy in her eyes was enough to make the hassle of decorating the tree worth it. This was Luce’s first time decorating a Christmas tree, and when he voiced this fact, Natalie gasped, falling into a fit of melodramatics, exclaiming that he was deprived as a child.

Collapsing dramatically against his arm, Natalie sighed, “I’m really glad your first time was with me.”

Her hair smelled floral and he swallowed the innuendo on his tongue, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Come on, we have to celebrate with cupcakes.”

Luce nodded and followed her, “Ah, yes. And if I remember correctly, you owe me two cupcakes,” he tapped his lips with his long fingers, “plus interest.”

“No way,” Natalie shook her head, “interest free. You haven’t been around to collect or accumulate interest.”

“I’ve been busy.” He said, his tone short.

His eyes followed Natalie as she walked around to the backside of her counter, sliding open her display case of goodies.

Her voice dropped when she reached for two cupcakes, “too busy to see me?”

She stood up straight and handed the cupcakes over the counter towards him, but he didn’t pay any attention to the offered chocolate cupcakes. Instead, his eyes were firmly fixed on the mistletoe above their heads and he was suddenly aware of his close they are, despite the counter between them.

The background of the bakery faded away, and his eyes were inexplicably drawn to Natalie’s lips. They were slightly chapped, but it did nothing to detract from the usual pink color of her lips. He could feel her eyes burning on his lips too, and he resisted the urge to run the tip of his tongue over his lips to wet them.

This wasn’t the first time he wondered how soft her lips would be against his own. Somehow she was closer, and he wondered if she was leaning in, or if it was him. Her lips parted slightly which sent his heart into a frenzy, beating wildly in his chest as he leaned in closer and closer. It would be so easy to press his lips to hers, and the thought ran hot through his whole body. Any lingering cold was pushed away, and his muscles felt tight as his mind waged war against his body.

This girl, Natalie, was so warm and welcome and innocent. All the things he wasn’t. The thought made him feel like a hand was squeezing his heart and he longed to have the strength to pull back, to leave. But, fuck, her eyes were closed and her lips were parted with hope, it was too hard to say no when Natalie was doing everything but screaming yes.

He felt her warm breath against his lips and the last cord of tension in him snapped, and he gave, letting his own eyes close. Her lips brushed his cheek, whisper soft, the intention so sweet he felt tears sting his eyes. She turned her head to press her lips to his when the loud sound of her phone made them jerk apart, the gentle melody seeming cacophonous in the quiet bakery.

The tension kept his body tight, and he turned, all but running out the door when Natalie went to answer her phone.

“Hello? Oh, hi dad.”

He heard her answer, and she sounded out of breath. Her husky voice sent a shiver down his spine and he was so reluctant to shut the door behind him, but he couldn’t stay. He knew he couldn’t, so he ran. The air was bitingly cold against him, but his cheek burned from where her lips pressed against his skin, and it’s enough to keep him warm.

Her lips were even softer than they looked. The thought plagued him.  

“No, Dad. I’m fine.” She wished her words didn’t shake.

“Really, I mean it.” She wished it were true.

After hanging up, she walked to the door, noticing his leather jacket that he left behind. The thought of him returning, even just to claim it, filled her with hope.

As she climbed the stairs, she ran her finger over her lips, committing the feel of his stubble to memory.


	6. Chapter 6

Every day Christmas crept closer and closer, the cold seeping in to Natalie’s skin as she worried over the upcoming holiday. She had already purchased gifts for her brother, his boyfriend Dylan, and her dad, but she felt like she was forgetting something important. The anxiety of it sat heavy in her stomach and seemed to weigh more against her as the hours of the day winded down.

 

Glancing up at the heavy leather jacket on her coat rack, the realization hit her with sharp clarity. Of course, she didn’t have to go to Christmas alone this year, she could take Lucifer. It would be easy to pretend they were dating, her dad would never know the difference, he would just be excited that Natalie had finally found somebody.

 

She was assaulted with a new bout of anxiety as she paced behind her counter, repeating the request in her head over and over.

 

The rest of the day seemed to go by lightning fast and she doubted her request for the hundredth time when it was time to close for the day. After double checking to make sure the mistletoe over her counter was taken down, she flipped the open sign over with a burst of finality.

 

As soon as she clicked out the lights lining the windows, the glass door was pushed open, and Lucifer stepped into her warm bakery, his hands shoved in his pockets as a barrier from the cold air.

 

“I forgot-“

 

“You forgot your-“

 

They started in unison, and both broke off, looking anywhere but at each other before Natalie handed him the leather jacket, pausing briefly under its weight. She hadn’t expected it to be that heavy and she had newfound respect for the strength of his shoulders. Her gaze lingered over his wide frame for a moment before she gestured for him to step in.

 

Luce couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking upwards, checking for mistletoe, before following Natalie. She pulled a box out from under the counter, and pushed it towards him.

 

Half a dozen chocolate cupcakes were in the box and Natalie smiled up at him.

 

“Two cupcakes from Thanksgiving,” she tapped the box, “plus four, for interest.”

 

The corner of his lips quirked up as he bit into one, the rich chocolate familiar and delicious. He hummed around the mouthful.

 

“Took you long enough,” he teased, taking through his bite.

 

Deciding to get straight to the point, she asked, “I have a question for you.”

 

Luce nodded, not looking up from his cupcake.

“My dad throws this Christmas party every year and he’s always pressuring me to bring a date, so would you,” Natalie paused, daring to look up at Luce who had stopped eating his cupcake to stare at her, his eyes wide.

 

Steeling herself, Natalie continued, “would you pretend to be my boyfriend? It’s just a weekend, and I promise I’ll make you more sweets than you would ever want.

 

Luce took another big bite of the cupcake, and chewed thoughtfully so he could process her request. He weighed his options: a normal weekend spent doing what he wanted to, or a weekend of God knows what, to be rewarded with endless treats. Swallowing the bite of cupcake, his choice was clear.

 

“Sure.”

 

Natalie lips fell open in surprise, but she quickly recovered, nodding rapidly and thanking him over and over. She began to pace the room, rattling off traditions and family names while Luce sat down, and kept at his cupcake. When he finished the treat, he crumpled up the snowflake decorated wrapper and pitched it into the trashcan in the corner before picking up the broom that she kept tucked in the corner.

 

He began sweeping under the back row of booths and finished before Natalie had even taken a breath. He swept the rest of the floor as she kept running through endless lists of personality traits and types of dresses and the Christmas tree, of course, how could she forget?

 

Putting the broom back in its spot, he grabbed a wet rag to wipe down her counter and glass display case. Once all the fingerprints of today were gone, he pitched the rag into the sink in exchange for a sponge and began scrubbing baked on chocolate off the sides of her pans.

 

Luce glanced up to see her still pacing the same strip of the floor, and at some point she had taken her hair down. She braided it while she spoke, and then ran her fingers through it, and braided it again. Her hair had gotten much longer than when he first met her, and he briefly wondered if she would wear it down at Christmas.

 

Turning his attention back towards the dishes, Luce worked on them until they were clean and dried off with the ratty kitchen towels she kept in the drawer. He put them away with the rest of her pans and began to box up the leftover cookies and cupcakes while she told him about dinner and how her dad tried to cook, but he was just honestly no good at cooking.

 

She instructed him not to comment on the quality of the food, and he nodded as he snapped the boxes shut and put them on display for tomorrow.

 

Sitting back down at his original table with his box of cupcakes, he interrupted, “when is this?”

 

“Two weeks from now.”

 

“Perfect,” Luce said, standing and walking back towards her counter.

 

He picked up one of her business cards and scribbled his name and number across the back.

 

“Text me when you want me to meet you.”

 

He carried the card over to Natalie and tucked it into her apron pocket, his hand brushing her hip. She tilted her head up to watch him, her eyes wide when the memory of how his stubble felt against her face ran through her mind. Luce paused for a moment, and Natalie waited with her breath in her throat, for what he was going to say.

 

With a slight shake of his head, Lucifer took a step back, and slung his jacket over his shoulders. He carried the box of cupcakes out and opened the door, letting a cold wave of air sweep into her bakery.

* * *

 

Lucifer laid awake that night, wondering just what he had agreed to. It was one thing to spend time with her and carry cupcakes for her, but he had basically prostituted himself for something sweet. His sheets were pooled around his legs, and despite the cold December night, he felt too hot and confined in his room.

 

 The sheets seemed to stick to his skin and he rolled over, tired of seeing the familiar cracks in the ceiling stare at him. He had spent too many night awake staring at the same lines, replaying moments of his day over in his head.

 

Luce threw his arm over his eyes as he rolled back over, the scratchy sheets chafing his skin. He never felt lonely until he was away from her.

 

The thought sat heavy in his stomach like a cold stone, and he rubbed his exposed skin, surprised that it still felt smooth despite the weight he felt. Exhaustion burned behind his eyes, and he felt the warm pull of sleep beginning to set over him.

 

As quickly as it began, it was interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing, and Luce shot up to blindly grasp for it. Clicking his lamp on, he spotted his phone and grabbed it, wondering who would be texting him this late.

 

Unable to unscramble the letters, he reluctantly reached back to his nightstand again to grab his round glasses that he only wore to transition from his bed to the bathroom, so he could put his contacts in. However, he was now able to see, thanks to his thick glasses that completely ruined his intimidation factor, and he unlocked his phone and scrolled to his recent messages.

 

An unknown number left him a message that said, “Hey! Can’t sleep, hope I didn’t wake you. Do you have any Christmas sweaters?”

 

Rolling his eyes at Natalie’s message, he typed back, “What in the hell would make you think I have Christmas sweaters?”

 

Her response was almost immediate, “Dunno, figured something had to keep you warm before you got that leather jacket of yours, El.”

 

“I normally have people to keep me warm. Not Christmas sweaters that kill the mood.”

 

Her response was slower this time, and he saw the telltale three dots that signified she was typing appear, disappear, and appear again. He bit the inside of his cheek, and hoped that his teasing didn’t cross some sort of line. His muscles relaxed when his phone buzzed again, lighting up with her cheeky response.  

 

“Sorry to break it to you, but my dad is a little old for you. I wouldn’t be too worried about ‘the mood.’”

 

The silence in his bedroom was broken when he actually laughed, and typed out, “Who knows? Maybe we’ll hit it off.”

 

“With his cooking? I seriously doubt it.”

 

“Do you think I’m only coming with you for the cupcakes?”

 

More slow typing dots.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well you’re right.”

 

“Ha! Wear a Christmas sweater.”

 

“Only if you wear something red.”

 

“Perfect, my sweater has Rudolph’s shiny red nose on it.”

 

It wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but the thought threatened to make him actually smile. He was going soft.  

 

“Can’t wait.”

 

The bright lights cutting across his apartment from the gaps in the blinds woke Luce up, and he sat up suddenly, unable to remember falling asleep. His phone was in his lap and his glasses were low on his nose when he reached up to rub his face.

 

He trudged to the bathroom, scrolling through messages on his phone before reading the last one he sent over and over.

 

Despite his best efforts to tamp down any emotion, the thought of not spending Christmas alone actually excited him.

* * *

 

As the planned weekend drew closer, Natalie’s texts became more frequent and panicked as she interrogated him over his tie choices, topics of conversation, and of course, over what to get him.

 

“We have to exchange gifts. Dad is going to expect it!”

 

“I’ll get you a gift card.”

 

“No that doesn’t work. You don’t get a person you’ve been dating for 8 months a gift card.”

 

“I thought you said our story was gonna be that we’ve been dating for 6 months.”

* * *

 

 

Natalie dragged Luce all the way downtown to the city’s thrift store for the sole purpose of finding him a Christmas sweater horrible enough to compete with her dad’s.

 

They were leaving tomorrow, and Natalie had checked off on all of Luce’s clothing and approved it, short of him having a Christmas sweater. The cashier was glaring daggers at Natalie and Luce as they tore through the store that was getting ready to close in ten minutes. Natalie didn’t spare the old man another glance though, her face was drawn tight and her gait was quick and predatory, like a woman on a mission.

 

After carefully sifting through the grand selection of the three sweaters that were left by this time of the year, Natalie held up a black sweatshirt covered in glitter glue and fabric on the front to create the picture of Santa’s legs coming out of the chimney.

 

White puffy glue created snow on Santa’s boots and the Christmas tree next to the fireplace was covered in enough glitter to make three more sweaters. Natalie ran her fingers along the sleeve reverently before handing it to Luce and nodding at him. Yes, even he had to admit, it would do perfectly.

* * *

 

The morning was harsh and bright with the sun gleaming unforgivingly against the fresh snow that had fallen hours before. Luce’s bag was wedged in the back of Natalie’s trunk between her worn out duffle bag, and the bright packaged gifts she had painstakingly wrapped while she was on the phone with him last night, tacking on last minute details to their story.

 

Slumping in his seat, Lucifer pulled the festive hat she was making him wear down over his eyes and tried to grab a nap while Natalie drove. The jingle of her bell earrings kept him awake though, but he would die before admitting it. This was the most silence he’d gotten from her in weeks, and they were in a car together.

 

Eventually, he did nod off, and Natalie drove on, sipping coffee that had gotten cold long ago and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of Christmas carols.

 

Waking suddenly from restless sleep, Luce jolted upright in the seat, looking around to gauge where he was. The bright morning had settled down, giving way to lingering clouds that made the horizon seem dark, and Luce glanced over to see the neon sign of a gas station.

 

Natalie’s sock hat was pulled down low over her ears and forehead, and she rubbed her hands together impatiently while she waited for the gas tank to fill. The sleep finally cleared from his eyes, and Luce opened the door, shocked at how deep the cold cut him. Shaking off he moment of surprise, he made his way over to Natalie.

 

His hands were warm and she was grateful for his broad frame against her. She leaned into him for a moment before he took the gas nozzle and nodded for her to take shotgun. Too cold to argue, Natalie got in the car, and relaxed against the seat, still warm from where Luce had been sitting.

 

By the time he climbed back into the warmth of the car and started the engine, Natalie had curled up in the passenger seat and fallen asleep. It was almost a shame, she would have loved to seen the fresh snow fall over the highway.

 

* * *

 

By the time he pulled into the driveway of her dad’s house, (according to the map that Natalie had printed, actually _printed_ ), she was just beginning to stir in the seat beside him. Blinking awake, Natalie first looked at Luce, then towards the house, her earrings chiming as she turned her head.

 

A smile split across her face so wide that he wondered if it hurt, and she launched herself out of the car.

 

“We’re here!” She shouted to the falling snow, and Lucifer grabbed her arm to steady her as she nearly slipped on the slick pavement.

 

He took a deep breath to steady himself before following her towards the house. It was going to be a long weekend.

 


	7. Chapter 7

If it wasn’t for his white knuckle grip on their bags, Luce swore he would have booked it down the street as soon as he stepped foot into the McAllister house. Natalie’s presence at his side kept him grounded as he looked around the room, taking in the glittering excess of all things Christmas in the living room. The sharp smell of cinnamon was making his eyes water, and he squeezed them shut for a moment to calm down.

 

Placing a steadying hand on his forearm, Natalie lead Luce into the kitchen, away from the gaudily decorated living room and loud Christmas music. Once he was away from all the stimulation, his grip on their things loosened and the tension started to relax from his shoulders. Natalie didn’t remove her hand from his arm and she looked up at his stricken face.

 

“You okay?” She asked, giving his arm a soft squeeze.

 

He took a deep breath to reply, but Max burst into the kitchen, Dylan hot on his heels.

 

“I thought I heard a Gnat in the house,” Max started, then turned his head to look at Luce, “and _you._ ”

 

Luce immediately straightened his back and the tension in his shoulders returned. Natalie knew Luce was tall, but in comparison to the two other men in the kitchen, he seemed to tower over them like an intimidating wall of muscle. His face twisted into a sneer and the kitchen felt too small for the family all at once.

 

“Yes, me,” Luce said, his voice dripping with feigned nonchalance.

 

Max mirrored Luce’s posture, standing straighter and glaring at the taller man while Dylan hung back and leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene play out. Max let his gaze purposefully linger over Lucifer’s piercings, the tattoo peeking out of his collar, and his heavy biker boots that were well worn from years of use, but to Luce’s credit, he didn’t shrink from the skepticism. Instead, he returned the scrutiny with equal intensity.

 

Max broke first, “how come you haven’t been around before?”

 

“We’ve only been dating for six months,” Luce said without skipping a beat.

 

Natalie winced behind him. Eight. They agreed on eight.

 

“So you didn’t think to come to anything before?” Max prompted, “Not Labor Day weekend? Her birthday? Not even Thanksgiving?”

 

“Have you considered that I have a family of my own that I’d like to spend holidays with?”

 

“But not even reaching out to us once in six months?”

 

“Six months isn’t a whole lot of time, we –“

 

It was Natalie who interrupted, “we didn’t want to rush things!”

 

“Yeah,” Luce scoffed, “I’d hate to ruin any family photos if we crashed and burned.”

 

“So you decided that Christmas was the perfect opportunity?” Max nearly shouted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he crept closer to Luce, “Perfect way to meet the family for the first time?”

 

Pointedly looking down at him, Luce answered, “yep.”

 

“Oh, you cocky son of a –“

 

Max’s exclamation was cut off as Alex finally stumbled into the kitchen with a wide smile on his face. Of course, Luce could hardly even notice his face when his Christmas sweater was lit up brighter than Natalie’s Christmas tree. The poor man was a walking fire hazard.

 

“Pumpkin! I didn’t know you were here!” Alex wrapped Natalie in a tight hug, smothering her in the scratchy polyester of his Christmas sweater.

 

After a long moment, Alex took a step back and smiled at Natalie, his expression so gentle it made Luce feel like he was watching a sappy family movie instead of Natalie’s actual family. Eventually, Alex turned to look up at Luce, his smile faltering for a moment before growing wider.

 

“So good to finally meet you,” Alex paused, then extended his hand and continued, “Lucifer.”

 

Biting back a smart remark at his hesitation, Luce shook the older man’s hand, in awe of how soft and small it felt in comparison to his own large hands. Returning his arm to his side, he rubbed his calloused thumbs on the seams of his black pants to shake the feeling of Alex’s hands off.

 

After a moment of small talk, Alex clapped his hands, “well, I’m sure you and Natalie want to settle in! Why don’t you two head on upstairs, and I’ll call everyone back down when dinner is ready.”

 

Nodding, Luce picked up the bags he sat down and followed Natalie as she navigated through the labyrinth that was the house. Finally finding the stairs, he trailed her wordlessly, not ready to break the silence that settled uncomfortably between them when they both refused to acknowledge what just happened down in the kitchen.

 

Rounding what felt like the tenth corner, they stopped in front of a door with Natalie’s name spelled out on it in bright painted letters.

 

“Perfect,” Luce said, “now you’ll always know which room is yours.”

 

His comment dissolved the tension standing between them and she elbowed him on her way in the room, “shut up, dude.”

 

Her room was as pink as her bakery, and Natalie fell in love with the pastel colors and decorations all over again, sighing happily as she took in the bright walls, the bean bag chair, and her pink comforter that she was sure her dad had painstakingly washed the night before.

 

Luce heaved her heavy bag onto her bed like it weighed nothing and he sat his down on the ground before collapsing into the bean bag chair and absently grinned up at her, “so where’s my room, girl?”

 

Natalie paused, her fingers toying with the zipper on her bag as she considered for the first time what their sleeping arrangements would be, and after a long moment, she swallowed and tried to busy herself with her bag to look casual.

 

“Oh, we’ll be sharing my room.”

 

The catch in her words made her cheeks flush, and she pulled her sweaters out of the bag, shaking them out before folding them again and putting them back in her bag.

 

The air was sucked out of his lungs at the news, and he made a strangled sound before clearing his throat, the action feeling too loud in her small room that felt too quiet all at once. When he recovered from his momentary fit, he still couldn’t find words to speak so he nodded for another moment.

 

After the silence dragged on for too long, he hastily spoke, “I guess you didn’t plan ahead too well, girl. Don’t worry. It’s only a weekend, it’ll be fine.”

 

He sounded much calmer than he felt, his mind still racing in surprise, but his words seemed to put Natalie at ease as she pointed to her dresser and informed him that the bottom two drawers were empty and he was free to use them.

 

Luce stood up slowly from the bean bag chair, wincing as his joints popped. After putting his bag on the bed, he stretched, groaning as he felt the pull in his muscles and Natalie caught a glimpse of dark ink tattooing something on his stomach from where his shirt pulled up. She looked away before she could make out details, and otherwise occupied herself by putting her toothbrush and other toiletries in her small bathroom.

 

After throwing his clothes into the drawers Natalie pointed out (except for the Christmas sweater which he painstakingly hung in the closet, per Natalie’s insistence) Luce carried his toothbrush to the bathroom and put it in the same cup that her pink one was in. He chewed on the inside of his cheek when he stood at the counter, looking at her bobby pins and hair ties strewn out all over the bathroom counter. His expression was soft when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he sneered at his reflection while he smoothed back some of his hair that had been mussed by the cold winter air.

 

The sound of Natalie’s giggling broke his concentration, and he looked over to her learning against the doorframe, a broad smile stretched on her face.

 

“C’mon, it’s dinner time. But be careful,” Natalie warned, “every answer that you give that doesn’t line up with the story we discussed, I’m taking back a cupcake.”

 

* * *

 

 

The quiet reprieve that her bedroom offered was not continued downstairs, and between Max’s drilling and Alex’s quiet, but probing questions, dinner was quickly exhausting Natalie and Luce.

 

Questions about how they met (mutual friend), and where was their first date (coffee shop downtown) were answered with practiced ease at the beginning of dinner, when Alex first began serving overcooked turkey and green beans still cold from the can. But as the dinner wore on, the questions got more difficult, with Max trying to find fault in everything Luce said.

 

“What’s your favorite thing about my sister?”

 

“Oh, her baking, definitely.”

 

That was not a lie, and Natalie laughed modestly while putting a hand on Luce’s arm in what she hoped was an amorous gesture.

 

He turned his head quickly to look at her, but Natalie didn’t move her hand, instead she returned his gaze, making sure that her expression was soft. She supposed she overdid it because Luce tore his eyes away from her, and Natalie chewed on her bottom lip, catching his eye as he glanced her way several times, his gaze landing on her lips.

 

Natalie wiped her mouth self-consciously with a napkin and Luce leaned over and whispered, “how much longer until I can excuse myself?”

 

She kicked him under the table in response and he grinned, his teeth almost unnaturally white in the glow of the candles her dad insisted be the only light at the dinner table. Natalie leaned in again, and Luce raised an eyebrow in question at her proximity before she sat up straight again, and then stood, retreating to the kitchen under the pretense of getting dessert for everyone.

 

With Alex, Max, and Dylan all staring at Luce now in Natalie’s absence, he excused himself too, claiming she might need help. The small kitchen was almost a welcome reprieve from the disastrous cooking and Natalie was hunched over the counter with a tight grip on the edge. Luce placed a hand on Natalie’s shoulder and she flinched under his touch, but then relaxed seeing it was just him.

 

She turned around and leaned back against the counter, looking up at Luce and his dumb popped collar.

 

She heaved out a sigh, “are we doing the right thing? Lying to my family?”

 

“I dunno,” Luce answered, grabbing her hips to lift her up onto the counter where he knew she liked to sit.

 

She swung her legs while she talked, “I mean they seem happy,” she paused, poking Luce’s cheek when he made a face, “they’re just giving you a hard time because they like you. Or at least they like that I have someone and I’m not alone at Christmas.”

 

Natalie laid her hand on Luce’s face, feeling the rough stubble against her palm when she whispered, “again.”

 

Luce stared down at Natalie, his breathing shallower than it was minutes before as he took in the lingering sadness that usually hid behind her carefully placed smile. He covered her hand with his own in an attempt to comfort her, and her fingers were cold against his warmer hands.  

 

She leaned in closer and tilted her head, wonder painting itself on her face.

 

“Huh,” she said, her voice quiet, “I never noticed there was gold in the brown of your eyes.”

 

His breath caught in his throat, and he memorized the pattern of freckles across her nose as he leaned in closer.

 

The sound of Alex’s voice asking if they needed help surprised both of them, and Natalie ripped her hand off Luce’s face as though it was fire. She rushed back into the dining room carrying the platter of decorated cupcakes, and Luce followed a beat later, still feeling the chill of her fingers against his jaw.

 

* * *

 

 

Luce was pacing the floor of Natalie’s bedroom, ranting in Spanish about what she supposed was her brother, based on hearing his name every so often, while Natalie scrubbed the makeup off her face in her bathroom. 

 

She didn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but she was more than happy to listen to him talk, his low voice taking on a thicker accent as he aggressively argued with himself.

 

“Y no tiene respeto por mí ni por tí-“

 

Natalie nodded sympathetically as he talked, his accent making the words sound deadlier than they probably were. She hesitated. Probably.

 

“Yo que él, me cuidaría la espalda-“

 

Leaning against the doorframe with a toothbrush in her mouth, she watched him continue his rant, waving his arms as he spoke.

 

Eventually, he calmed and ran his hands through his hair so it was messy and parts of it fell in his face. Natalie shut the bathroom door for a brief moment to pull her Christmas sweater off over her head in exchange for a loose tee shirt and ratty shorts from her softball days.

 

She stepped out of the bathroom, gesturing that it was open and Luce halted his pacing to sweep his eyes over her, taking in her loose hair, and grungy pajamas before he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He splashed cold water on his warm face before undoing the buttons on his shirt one at a time and shrugging it off. He emptied his pockets before kicking his jeans off in favor of gray sweatpants, and he leaned over the sink to take his contacts out, rubbing his eyes afterwards, grateful to ditch them because of the cold winter air that was irritating them.

 

Luce hesitated for just a moment before sighing and pushing his round glasses on his face. He glared at himself in the mirror for a moment, then stepped out into her bedroom, the warm air of the room stifling. He was glad he had forgone a shirt now, because he would surely be sweating.

 

Natalie was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, bent over a journal as she frantically scribbled out something that he wasn’t too worried about. Walking over to her bookshelf, he glanced at a few of the titles and scoffed. Her collection clearly hadn’t been touched in years, and he turned towards Natalie to tease her about it, but the words died on his lips as Natalie stared at him.

 

Her lips were parted as her eyes roamed his torso, lingering on the heavy black ink of the banded tattoos on his arms and the creeping vines that wrapped around his torso and crawled up his back. The dark designs were sketched out in only black, and the lines seemed sharp against his skin and the defined muscles of his stomach and back. Natalie’s mouth was dry, and she felt bad for staring but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

 

The intricate designs matched him so much better than Natalie would have imagined and she longed to trace the patterns with her fingers all the way up his spine. She wondered if the tattoos would burn under her touch, or if he would let her touch them at all.

 

And then Natalie noticed his glasses. The round frames and tousled hair against the sharp tattoos provided an interesting contrast and as he sat down in the worn out bean bag chair, Natalie couldn’t take it anymore, she busted out into a fit of giggles.

 

“Well if it isn’t,” she gasped through her laughter, “the boy who lived!”

 

He tried to maintain a steady frown, but lost out to the joy on her face, and he started laughing too, quieter and more reserved than Natalie, but happiness danced between them at the pure ridiculousness of the situation they were in.

 

“We did it! We really did it,” Natalie marveled, wiping away a tear that had sprung to her eye during her fit.

 

“Yeah, we really did, Natalie” Luce sighed in agreement, relaxing into the chair.

 

* * *

 

 

“No way,” Luce argued, leaning over Natalie’s shoulder to look at the picture pulled up on her laptop, “no. I will not believe that Nicholas Cage is a better actor than Christopher Walken. I won’t.”

 

Natalie leaned back against his bare chest and said, “you haven’t seen Con Air then.”

 

“I have, girl,” Luce exclaimed, “which is exactly why Christopher Walken is better.”

 

Tilting her head back to look up at him, Natalie whined, “I can’t believe I have to share the bed with someone who does not see the genius of Nicholas Cage.”

 

“There’s no genius to be-“ he cut himself off before sitting up straight and asking, “wait, we’re sharing the bed?”

 

Natalie could feel his heart begin to pound and it was mirrored in her own chest, “yeah, dude. I’m not sleeping on the floor, and after the long drive and interrogation at dinner, neither are you. Besides the bed is plenty big enough.”

 

His attempted protests all fell short at Natalie’s persuading (asserting), and Luce eventually consented reluctantly. He brushed his teeth stiffly in the mirror, wondering why he kept agreeing to this girl.

 

She was already snuggled below the covers on her side of the bed when he came out of the bedroom, and he considered putting on a shirt for a moment before he shook his head and climbed into bed beside her, being sure not to touch her.

 

As soon as he settled in, Natalie turned to face him, bidding him goodnight, and reminding him to take his glasses off. He obediently left them on the nightstand and rolled to face away from her, all of his muscles feeling tight as he listened to her slow even breathing as she quickly fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Luce reluctantly blinked awake as a part in the curtains of Natalie’s room casted sunshine onto his face. Startling for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings, he quickly relaxed when he remembered he was at Natalie’s house, in Natalie’s bed, with Natalie currently laying on top of his bare chest, her cheek pressed to his heart in her position.

 

Her hand was on his chest, her fingers cold against his skin, and one of his arms was wrapped around her waist while the other was tangled in her hair that was partially draped over his chest and almost seemed brilliant in the bright morning light. He tried to keep his breathing stable as Natalie laid against him, her eyes still closed in dreamless sleep.

 

Luce wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he felt Natalie’s cold fingers begin to trace the tattoos on his chest, and he looked down at the sleepy girl, one eye cracked open as she followed the lines of the ink.

 

“Morning,” Luce said, his accented voice rough with sleep.

 

In response Natalie groaned and buried her face against his chest, her lips moving against his skin to form words he couldn’t understand. His grip on her waist tightened slightly and for a brief moment Luce thought he might actually look forward to the day and Christmas sweaters and gift exchanges if it meant he could fall asleep next to her again.

 

The moment was broken, however, when Natalie blew a raspberry against his chest and giggled as Luce pushed her off of him while he reached to grab his glasses off the nightstand. Natalie poked Luce’s nose as he pushed the glasses up, and he battered her hand away in indignation before he called dibs on showering first.

 

Natalie mourned his loss of warmth in bed, but was happy to settle where he had been sleeping, and she pressed her face to his pillow, breathing it in.

 

In his shuffle to the bathroom, he remembered that he didn’t find the chance to wrap the copy of Con Air he had picked up for Natalie on a whim. He had no doubt she would love it now.

 

* * *

 

 

His obnoxious Christmas sweater was met with hearty approval from Alex as Luce slowly sipped the weak coffee offered to him. Natalie’s sweater was only marginally worse than his, but ultimately he declared her a winner due to the sparkly garland that wrapped around the hideous green sweatshirt.

 

However, when present time eventually rolled around after too many rounds of Pictionary and a countless amount of butchered Christmas lyrics, Natalie dismissed herself for a moment, leaving Luce to stick her present that he hastily wrapped in wrinkled newspaper under the lavishly decorated Christmas tree.

 

Relaxing back on the worn out couch, Luce watched Dylan and Max talk while Alex snapped pictures of the scene. It was homey in a way that was so unfamiliar it almost made Luce feel like an intruder on the scene, so he was grateful to hear the tell-tale chime of Natalie’s jingle bell earrings as she reentered the room.

 

Turning slightly, Luce looked over his shoulder to invite her to sit by him, but he froze on the spot when he saw her dress. It was deep crimson red and flared out at her waist, and Natalie smiled at him, making him aware he was staring but in that moment, Luce didn’t care. The fitted cut of the dress was a reminder of just how small she was and his mouth was dry when he shut it.

 

Alex was on his feet and fussing over her dress in a moment, snapping pictures of her and smiling. Natalie shied away from the camera after a moment, ducking her head and covering her face with her hand, and Luce stood to go stand by her. Alex snapped a picture just in time to catch Natalie leaning slightly into him and Luce’s face as the barest smile played on his lips while he looked down at her.

 

After the initial shock settled down, so did the family and they began tearing into presents, one at a time while giving the person opening the gift their full attention. When Natalie unwrapped the DVD of Con Air she leaned her shoulder against Luce’s and giggled up at him while holding the case like it was a precious gift. The private joke between them was shared in a quiet moment of intimacy before Luce opened the small package Natalie handed him, and he looked down at the box and the shiny silver wrapping paper that was carefully creased and taped.

 

He tore into the wrapping to reveal a heavy pewter lighter with ‘El Diablo’ etched into the side of the metal casing. He held the broad lighter carefully in his large hands, flicking the cap over to spark the lighter and he stared into the flame it quickly started, memorized by the little spark of fire she had given him.

 

“Thank you,” he said, quiet enough that the words were lost to everyone but Natalie, who leaned further into him as her way of silent acknowledgment.

 

After a moment of hesitation, Luce wrapped an arm around Natalie’s shoulders and she relaxed into his warmth, content to watch her family open gifts and laugh about jokes and memories from the year as the evening wound down and the blazing fire in the fireplace dulled into red coals. She could feel the rise and fall of Lucifer’s chest as he snickered lowly at some of the memories her father recounted, and his muscles stayed relaxed even as Max asked him nosy questions.

 

His chest was warm against the open back of her dress, and Natalie pressed further into him, seeking his touch when her dad turned on a black and white Christmas movie for the family to watch. She fell asleep against him before the angel even showed up to remind the man to appreciate his life and the people in it, and for all the cupcakes in the world, he couldn’t resist leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of Natalie’s head.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter contains NSFW content towards the end. Please do not read if you are under the age of consent.

The loud chime of the alarm on Natalie’s phone woke her long before she wanted, and she rolled over in bed, her vision hazy with sleep, and sat up slowly to turn her alarm off. Sunlight filtered through her windows, making her white sheets nearly glow in the bright light, and she could see the red of her leg hair illuminated. Rubbing her hand over her leg absently, Natalie thumbed through her phone, checking the weather for the day, and then checking her email.

 

After refreshing to be certain that her inbox was really empty, she flicked back over to her home screen and saw the date in the corner, the black numbers proudly boasting that it was New Year’s Eve. The fact excited Natalie, and she threw her heavy covers back with a refreshing bout of energy as she stood up to stretch, and flinched for a moment against the cold wooden floor.

 

New Year’s Eve was one of Natalie’s favorite holidays and she always looked forward to watching the ball drop in Times Square at midnight, but it did mean the bakery was closed, so Natalie would be spending the day alone. Taking a moment to straighten her sheets before picking her phone, Natalie considered asking Luce if he would want to spend the evening with her. After scrolling through the previous messages they had exchanged after their Christmas weekend at her dad’s, Natalie was smiling at the memory of his sarcastic texts and she could almost imagine how his lip would curl in a sneer if he read them out loud.

 

On a whim, she typed out a quick message, “You wanna ring in the New Year with me? I’ll make cupcakes!”

 

After a moment of hesitation, she hit send and threw her phone back on her bed and fled to the bathroom to shower and prepare for the day. The smell of her floral shampoo hung around her as she took her time enjoying the hot water of her shower, and after taking the time to shave, Natalie finally emerged from the bathroom, the mirror totally fogged from steam.

 

She traced the letters to spell, ‘Happy New Year,’ in the foggy mirror before brushing through her damp hair. After spending so long in the humid bathroom, her bedroom almost felt frigid and she shuffled to her bed, regretting that all she had to cover herself was a well-worn bath towel.

 

A new message alert on Natalie’s phone distracted her, and she unlocked her phone when she saw it was from Luce.

 

“Sure, I’ll bring champagne.”

 

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Natalie read his message several times, her lips pulling into a smile for a blissful moment before she locked her phone again and set about getting dressed for the day. The cold winter air had a tendency to dry out her skin faster than anything and she smeared lotion on her legs and arms, taking the time to work the lightly floral smelling balm into her skin. The bright red skirt she picked out of her closet made her feel pretty, and she twirled a few times, watching it fan out in her mirror when she did.

 

The slick stockings on her feet almost made her slip on the hardwood floor, and she carefully padded to the bathroom, twirling strands of her still-wet hair around her fingertips. After contemplating how much effort it would take to coax her hair into holding a curl, she decided against it, and instead patted some light makeup onto her face. After stabbing her eyes with the mascara wand (twice), she declared her face done, and carried her damp towels over to her hamper.

 

She took a second to make her bed and fold her white sheets and blankets carefully over the edges like she saw in movies, and then laughed at how off-kilter her bedroom seemed. She peeled a corner of the comforter back and threw some colorful pillows on it to make the bed feel like hers again. After a momentary inspection, she decided she was satisfied with the look and she stalked downstairs into the bakery.

 

It was almost heartbreaking for an agonizing second to see the empty tables and chairs when the sun was already shining so brightly through the glass, but the thought of everyone being home with their families offered a degree of comfort. Even her soft footsteps echoed loudly in the empty building, and Natalie was quick to turn on the TV in the corner for the comfort of a sound besides her own breathing.

 

The soft sound of monotone voices reading news reports was enough to calm her, and Natalie set to work, taking a moment to tie her hair up and pull on her apron over her outfit. It was an action born more of habit than necessity, but wearing her familiar uniform relaxed her.

 

Her hands made quick work in the kitchen, turning flour and eggs into a creamy chocolate batter that she poured into cupcake tins with practiced ease. Dottie the mixer helped whip up a light chocolate frosting and Natalie added a generous helping of cinnamon to the icing after a moment’s consideration.

 

The icing even smelled like the holiday spirit and Natalie licked the excess off of the spoon after she worked it into a pastry bag to squeeze onto the cupcakes. The oven chimed, signifying that it was preheated and Natalie popped the cupcake tins into the oven and carefully set her strawberry shaped timer.

 

Giving them time to bake, Natalie systematically made her way through the bakery, wiping down the tables, windows, and her glass display case. She followed her tracks with a broom and mop, and then organized each of the tables before organizing the lost and found basket by her door. She figured it would be awfully sad to be a lost glove in the world, but the buzzing of the kitchen timer pulled her attention from the striped glove and she returned to the kitchen, pulling the cupcakes from the oven.

 

Natalie sat the hot tray on top of the counter and made sure to turn off the oven before she walked away. Looking around her clean bakery, she realized she was out of things to do in preparation for tonight, unless she wanted to redecorate.

 

She considered the idea for a moment too long, but then shook her head, muttering, “no, no,” to her empty bakery.

 

Her phone buzzed, offering distraction and it was a message from Luce that read, “Wait, do you have champagne glasses?”

 

* * *

 

 

The clerk at the thrift store down the street had grown tired of seeing Natalie trudge in right when the store was about to close, but in the spirit of the holiday, he kept his mouth shut while Natalie carefully inspected each champagne glass for imperfections.

 

She couldn’t find a matching pair, so she was debating between two flutes that were not matches, but both had colored stems, and two that had the classic shape and felt fancy in her fingertips. Eventually setting the colored pair down in favor of the traditional ones, she made her way to the register, the old man willing her to hurry as she slowly walked through the store.

 

She checked out slowly, taking time to dig in her wallet for exact change while he wrapped the glasses in old newspapers that had gone yellow around the edges. The old man followed her to the door to turn the open sign off when she left, and Natalie quietly walked home, keeping a reverent grip on the plastic bag holding the glasses. She took her time on the walk home, enjoying the barren streets and the way snow gathered at the very edges of the walk from where the wind blew it around.

 

The cold wind cut through her coat and she was thankful for the stockings she pulled on that morning, even though they offered only the barest amount of protection, it was better than bare legs. Despite the chill of the day, she didn’t increase her speed and the blue sky was empty of clouds, and Natalie smiled, knowing the fireworks would be easily visible tonight since they didn’t have to compete with the sky.

 

Finally reaching the Rose Hill Bakery, Natalie fumbled with the keys in her pocket, but eventually found the right one and unlocked the door, stumbling in. After washing the glasses, she carefully put them in her cabinet, tucking them slightly behind another glass so it would look like she didn’t just buy them that day. Turning from her cabinet, she sanitized all the surfaces in her kitchen while she watched characters dressed like doctors run from one dramatic situation to another. Their glances were heavy and filled with longing while they discussed a patient chart, and Natalie flipped the channel after a moment.

 

While washing her hands, she tore her gaze from the TV to focus on scrubbing under her fingernails like she’d seen the doctors on the show do. While drying her hands, she dropped the towel when she was hit with the thought that tonight was a date. Backing away from the sink, she ran her fingers through her hair and picked up her phone, meaning to text Luce, but then set it down.

 

She wondered if he thought it was a date, was it just her? Shaking her head, she decided, no, this wasn’t a date. It was her imagination, that was all. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and wished the thought didn’t feel so bitter.

 

* * *

 

 

Luce paced his bedroom, the towel from his shower thrown haphazardly over his shoulder while he ran his fingers through his damp hair.

 

He assured himself that after Christmas, New Year’s Eve would be nothing, but the words felt empty on his tongue and he watched the clock, willing the hands to move faster so the anxiety of waiting would be over.

 

Pulling on a red dress shirt, he slid into his kitchen and checked to make sure the bottle of champagne was still there. The bottle was a gift given to him last Christmas by a friend as a joke, but on closer inspection, it was actually a very nice champagne. He never had occasion to enjoy an entire bottle of champagne alone, but he was happy to share the bottle with Natalie.

 

His walk back to his bedroom from the kitchen was short, and the sound of his bare feet against the linoleum floor was drowned out by the shouts of his neighbors arguing over something – again. He wondered why she wouldn’t just leave her, but the women were entitled to their own lives, he supposed.

 

 

His loud ringtone chimed, distracting him from the neighbors, and he picked up his phone, briefly smiling at the picture of Natalie grinning on his lock screen before reading the message, “I’ve got dinner almost done, feel free to come over whenever!”

 

 

Not wanting to seem overly eager, he counted out a minute before replying and telling her that he would head her way soon. He hunched over the mirror, carefully combing his hair until it was presentable before he applied a dab of cologne to his collar bone, the smell heavy and musky in his small bathroom. His collar was too straight for his liking, and he tweaked it until it laid sloppily against his neck. Taking a breath, he stepped back out into his bedroom to pull on his heavy boots that had seen many miles, but the leather was broken in just right and he didn’t think he could ever get rid of them.

 

After making sure to grab the champagne from the fridge, Luce locked the door behind him, shoving the keys in the pocket of his leather jacket. The long walk to the bakery felt shorter with his wide strides, and he made good time, despite cursing the cold for making the champagne even colder in his hands.

 

When he reached the door of the bakery, he hesitated a moment before grabbing the handle to open it, and he regretted not stopping somewhere earlier to buy flowers before everything closed. It was too late for regrets now, and he pulled on the door handle, surprised that it was locked. The bitter cold danced on his exposed skin and he knocked against the door, praying Natalie would come open it soon.

 

After a second, he knocked again, more forceful this time and he dropped his eyes to his boots, thanking the leather for staying resilient against the cold, and he looked up in time for Natalie to throw open the door. She gasped seeing him standing there, and quickly ushered him in, her warm hands comforting against his skin.

 

Her bakery was warm when he stepped inside, and the normally heavy scent of vanilla was still present, but buried under the smell of something cooking and Luce turned to Natalie, her hands still pressed against his. She jerked away and smiled, assuring him that dinner was just about to come out of the oven.

 

His skin burned where her hands had been and he offered her the bottle of champagne after clearing his throat.

 

“Ooh,” Natalie drew out, “the fancy kind.”

 

Luce nodded at her enthusiasm and shrugged his leather jacket off, throwing it over the coat rack, and he looked back towards Natalie, really seeing her for the first time that evening. The bakery went from warm to smoldering as his eyes traced up her, taking in the sheer black stockings that disappeared under her deep red skirt that flared out at her waist. The cropped knit sweater left a small gap of skin between the top of her high waisted skirt and the hem of her sweater, and he had to tear his eyes away from her pale skin to meet her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed under his inspection, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the gaze.

 

She cleared her thought after a tense moment, and said, “you smell good.”

 

He wasn’t sure when he had crept closer to her, but her chest was almost flush with his when she whispered the compliment, and Luce noticed that she had on lipstick. He almost missed the pale pink of it, but when her lips parted, he could tell she had carefully applied it. His stomach churned and his mouth tasted like something close to opportunity, but the timer on her oven went off before he could say anything, and Natalie jumped.

 

She smiled at her own reaction, “I’ll just, I’ll never get used to that. “

 

Luce hummed a noncommittal noise and watched her walk back into the kitchen, following her after a beat. Her skirt swayed when she walked and he tried his best not to notice, and he grabbed the bottle of champagne from her, going to her cabinets to hunt for glasses.

 

He found two tucked on the second shelf that most definitely had not been there the last time he was in her cabinets and he asked, “did you just get these today?”

 

She scoffed into her oven while she pulled out the tray, “Uh, no.”

 

The chicken smelled great, and she cut into a piece to make sure it was done all the way before turning to look at Luce, and she sighed at his searching expression.

 

“Okay, fine. I did buy them today,” she admitted.

 

He set the mismatched glasses down on the table and filled them with the champagne, careful not to spill it and said, “that old man is gonna ban you from the thrift shop if you keep up your holiday shopping.”

 

“Oh, I know!” Natalie grinned while plating the dinner, “You should have seen the look he was giving me today. Where’s his holiday cheer?”

 

“You might have used all of it up at Christmas, not all of us have an endless supply.”

 

She bumped his hip with hers and Luce grinned and followed her to a table, setting the champagne glasses down carefully.

 

He sat at the table across from her, and watched her face as she proudly told him what she had made for dinner, and Luce saw joy and pride play out across her face, but he couldn’t remember what she said. He merely nodded and pretended like the under seasoned chicken was the best thing he had ever eaten, but he supposed he should be grateful, her father’s cooking was far worse.

 

Her face lit up when he smiled and she picked up her glass, tipping it slightly towards Luce as a hint to pick his up, and when he followed her actions, she toasted, “to the new year and new beginnings.”

 

Luce clinked his glass against Natalie’s in agreement and they both tipped their heads back to drink the champagne, then immediately grimaced at the sour taste and reached for the glasses of water Natalie had placed on the table earlier.

 

“How long,” Natalie asked between sips of water, “have you had that?”

 

Luce shuddered, “Only a year, but it was a gift from a friend of shady character. There’s no telling when he would have…. acquired it.”

 

This made Natalie laugh, and she relaxed back into the chair, “you need better friends.”

 

“You’re telling me.”

 

Dinner passed quickly with quiet jokes and Natalie’s lipstick came off on her napkin, but the print on her champagne glass was still visible. The candles on the table threw dramatic shadows on Natalie’s face, but her eyes were illuminated bright green and he could see all the lose hairs that wanted to curl around her face. Her lips parted in a moment of realization and her bright eyes found his.

 

“I have cupcakes,” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to him across the table.

 

Luce mirrored her, leaning closer and kept his tone quiet, “God, I’ve been waiting for you to say that all night.”

 

On her way to the kitchen, Natalie turned up the volume on the TV that was broadcasting the view of Times Square. The evening had gone by alarmingly fast, and she couldn’t believe it was so close to the New Year already. She pulled the tray of cupcakes out of the fridge and sat them in front of Luce, who was practically salivating at the sight.

 

He pulled the first one off the tray and took his time peeling off the wrapper before biting into it, and almost groaned at the taste. The chocolate was rich and heavy, but the icing was light and fluffy and it was difficult to wait instead of licking all the icing off the top. Some of the icing smeared on his cheek, and Natalie swiped her thumb to catch it and lick it off her own finger.

 

Luce watched her, his hands frozen for a moment before he swatted her away claiming, “this one’s mine.”

 

Natalie threw her hands up in surrender and walked the champagne glasses to the kitchen, dumping the spoiled contents down the drain in favor of milk to combat the rich chocolate cupcakes. She brought the glasses back, and Luce picked his up with a smile, raising it in a toast that she met.

 

Sitting down across from him, Natalie grabbed a cupcake, and Luce reached for his second, giving Natalie a cheeky smile when she glared at him. She tore the wrapper off her cupcake and carefully licked the icing off her fingers, glancing back at the TV which said the time was growing alarmingly close to midnight, and when she looked back, Luce’s eyes were fixed on her.

 

There was an intensity in his face that made her want to look away, and she took another bite of her cupcake to ease the emotion growing in her stomach before she set it down on the table. Her tongue chased a crumb on her lips, and she could see the muscles tense in his arms when he clenched his hand into a fist.

 

 Natalie was dimly aware of the TV loudly counting down the seconds to the New Year, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from Luce’s. The gold in them burned bright even in the dim light of her bakery, but the heat behind his gaze was what made her squirm and lose focus on the countdown, despite the crowded view of Times Square being something she looked forward to every year.

 

The corner of Luce’s lips pulled up in a smile, and she watched them softly form the numbers of the countdown, his words too quiet to hear. 

 

_3_

_2_

_1_

 

“Happy New Year, Natalie.”

 

She couldn’t even process his words before his lips were on hers, and somehow he had gotten her standing a step away from the table.

 

His mouth was warm against hers, and she could taste the cinnamon from the icing in his kiss. Her chocolate tasted so much sweeter coming from Luce’s lips and she didn’t know if she could go back from the addicting rush of him. There was a something sweet in his kiss that Natalie didn’t recognize, but couldn’t get enough of.

 

She broke the kiss after a moment, stopping to gasp for air, and after a second, Luce bowed his head down to capture her mouth again.

 

Natalie gasped against him, and Luce wrapped a strong arm around her waist, keeping her firmly against him, and Natalie reached up and grabbed the edges of his collar before kissing him back. Luce’s free hand reached up to hold her face, his thumb stroking her cheek when he deepened the kiss, and Natalie let her lips part, opening herself to him. Her tongue was hot against his own, and Luce felt his chest constrict at the sweetness of her kiss and how gentle she always was with him.

 

The gentleness was not reciprocated, and Luce tightened his grip on her waist as he backed her up against the counter in her kitchen. Natalie winced against his mouth as the hard metal of it bumped into her back. Running his tongue over her bottom lip, Luce brought both of his hands up to cup her face, amazed at the softness of her skin.

 

His heart ached every time she kissed him back echoing the same passion that burned in him, and his every thought was fixed on her in that moment. His gentle grip on her face was the only thing that kept him from floating away, and he swore the earth fell away when her mouth was against his. It was everything a story book kiss should be, and his head swam with the intensity of it.

 

Breaking the kiss again, Natalie stared up at Luce, her cheeks flushed as vibrant as her hair and her chest heaving and Luce almost lost himself again, mourning the loss of her mouth against his. His own breathing was erratic and heat was blooming in his chest when he realized what he had just done, but when he looked down at Natalie, her eyes were gentle and seeking, and Luce offered no resistance when she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to press her lips to his.

 

Her mouth was softer than he imagined, and he was more than willing to lose himself to the kiss, and to her _._ He never expected to be so thoroughly wrecked by a girl who barely came to his collar bone, but the passion in her kiss said more than he needed to hear, and he tried to return it, working almost feverishly against her, like he would surely die without more. Without _her._

He wasn’t a man of many words but he swore he could write poetry about her lips and with the taste of her kiss on his tongue, the words threatened to never stop.

 

Her chest was flush against his, but the desire to have her closer burned low in his stomach, and he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the counter with practiced ease. Now at eye level, Natalie ran her fingers through Luce’s hair, giggling against his lips when he grunted softly at the feeling of her fingernails raking through his dark hair. His hands were heavy on her hips, and she felt the heat of him through the skirt she so carefully picked out for the evening. She shivered against him, pressing closer.

 

Natalie gasped at the feel of Luce’s teeth nipping at her lower lip before he ducked his head to kiss her jaw gently, letting his teeth softly graze her pale skin. She felt his smile against her neck when she groaned and grabbed a handful of the fabric of his button up, but he didn’t stop his ministrations, and he pressed another kiss to her neck before kissing her collar bone.

 

There was no space between them, but Luce still dragged her closer, pressing his hips into hers when he kissed her shoulder where her loose shirt hung. Natalie shuddered, shifting her hips against Luce’s, making both of them gasp before Luce nipped at the pale skin of her shoulder, too light to leave a mark.

 

Natalie grabbed Luce’s collar, and pulled him up to kiss her again, her mouth frantic against his and Luce nearly laughed at the taste of desperation on her lips, but her tongue swept into his mouth and he swallowed the thought, knowing his kiss was just as hungry. He dropped one of his large hands from her hip and trailed it up the outside of her thigh until he met the hem of her stockings, surprised at the heat of her skin despite the shivers that shook her.

 

Her legs fell open at his gentle touch, then wrapped around his hips, the fabric of her skirt wrinkling as it pooled and bunched up. It took every bit of Luce’s self-control to keep himself from grinding against her, and he settled for running his hands over her soft thighs, trying to memorize the feeling of her skin and stockings underneath his fingers.

 

Her hands fell from his collar to the buttons, and she fiddled with the first one for a frustrating moment before breaking the kiss to tell him breathlessly, “take it off.”

 

Luce made quick work of the buttons and discarded his shirt on the floor, not caring where it landed as long as he could have his hands on her again. Natalie traced the heavy black outlines of his tattoos like she did that Christmas morning and his heart felt tight in his chest for a moment, and he kissed her with something heavy burning in his chest.

 

Her fingers were cold against his heated skin and his hands went back to her hips, toying with the hem of her shirt for a moment before she took the hint and pulled the gauzy white sweater off over her head and tossed it behind her. Tiny pink flowers decorated her delicate bra, and Luce pressed his lips to her collar bone, and nipped at her flushed skin, satisfied with the way her hands grabbed at his shoulders. Her nails dugs into his skin, and he bit at her harder, overcome with the desire to leave a reminder of his kiss against her skin.

 

Natalie threw her head back and groaned, a beautiful sound that was equal parts pain and pleasure and Luce leaned over her, forcing her to lay back on the counter. She flinched momentarily from the cold of the counter against her skin, but the distraction was forgotten with the feeling of Luce’s lips on the skin between her breasts, then her stomach.

 

His lips lingered just above the hem of her skirt, pressing gentle kisses to her skin and letting his warm breath fan over her sensitive skin for a tantalizingly long moment before he snaked his hands up her skirt to toy with the hem of her panties. Her breath hitched, and she drawled out his name in a dark moan that made his hands shake, and he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, right above where the fabric of her black stockings ended.

 

Her legs fell open further, and Luce kissed his way up her thighs, pausing to let his teeth graze her skin, and on occasion, bite a bruise into the pale flesh of her inner thighs. Finally reaching the top of her legs, he hooked his fingers over the sides of her pale pink panties and pulled them down and off of her, leaving her bare underneath him, save for her red skirt that was bunched up around her hips and her black gauzy stockings. Taking a moment to tuck the damp panties in his pocket, Luce let his gaze sweep over her.

 

She was absolutely breathtaking, and her eyes were heavy lidded as she stared up at him, and she didn’t shy from his gaze when he looked her over.

 

“Fuck, Natalie,” he all but groaned before leaning back down to press his lips to a bruise on her inner thigh that was already beginning to turn purple.

 

Natalie groaned into the quiet air and her hips shifted quietly while he slowly made his way up, his mouth pressing to her hot skin closer and closer to where she wanted him, and after agonizingly long, he reached the apex of her thighs, and she felt his warm breath against her, lighting her skin on fire, but he pulled away, dipping his head back down to kiss her thigh.

 

Grabbing a handful of his hair, Natalie whined, unsure if she could withstand more teasing, “please, Lucifer. _Please.”_

 

His name sounded positively sinful coming from her lips in a moan, and he rewarded her by dragged his tongue over her center, pausing to flick her clit in a way that made her thighs tense around his shoulders.

 

The strangled sound that Natalie made was worth it, and Luce drew his tongue over her again, amazed at how wet she was. She didn’t release her grip on his hair, and he flicked his tongue over her clit, alternating between the barest amounts of pressure, and such heavy pressure that she squirmed below him.

 

She choked on words that sounded like, “please,” and, “more,” so he didn’t relent, and instead he increased his speed, working her clit until her thighs were trembling and her breath was shaking.

  
She released her grip on his hair to grab the edges of the counter, her back arching off the surface as shudders tore through her, but Luce didn’t release his grip on her thighs, and his tongue was still incessant against her, the pressure frustratingly gentle. She tried to press closer to him in an attempt to get him to press harder, but her efforts were fruitless as his strong arms held her thighs firmly in place and continued his gentle pace.

 

Her thighs trembled as he continued and she felt her stomach tighten. In turn she gripped Luce’s shoulder, one hand still on the counter, and gasped, “please, _p-please, I’m right there_.”

 

Luce’s grip on her thighs loosened, and he lazily pulled away, pressing a kiss to her thigh, his lips wet. Natalie could have sobbed at the sudden loss of his touch, especially when she need him most.

 

Her words were frantic and she stuttered, “n-no! Luce, please. Fuck, please don’t stop, I need you. I need it,” her words running together.

 

His face warmed at her words, but he feigned nonchalance despite his own arousal sitting heavy in his gut, and asked in between the kisses he was pressing to her thighs, “Need what?”

 

Natalie thighs were still trembling from the pent up tension, “Luce, please.”

 

“Natalie,” his words were sharper this time, and he punctuated them by pressing his teeth to the delicate skin of her inner thighs, “what do you need?”

 

“I need to cum, Luce,” her words were practically a moan at this point, but his grip on her thighs tightened nonetheless and he dragged her closer, pressing her tongue to her center and devouring her like he was a starving man.

 

Despite all of the cupcakes she’d ever made for him, she was by far the sweetest thing he had ever tasted and he worked his tongue against her until her thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and her back arched off the metal counter, now warm from her. Moans that sounded like his name rolled off her tongue as she hit her orgasm hard and ground her hips down against Luce as the waves of it shot through her.

 

Everything was too sensitive all at once, and Natalie laid back against the counter and gasped in an attempt to catch her breath. Luce leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips, and Natalie could taste herself on his mouth.

 

After a long moment, Natalie finally sat up, her expression gentle and hazy when she pulled him closer and kissed him again, slowly like she had nowhere to go. Her thighs were slick when she shifted on the table, and she reached down to feel Luce through his jeans, his length hot and heavy in her hand.

 

His hips jerked at the contact, and Luce broke the kiss, looking down at Natalie before pressing his mouth to hers again, harder this time. She gasped against his lips and tightened her grip on him for a moment before she reached for the buckle on his belt. When she couldn’t get it undone, Luce swatted her hands and grabbed her hips, pulling her closer to him so her breath was hot on his collar bone when it shuddered.

 

He was hard through his jeans, and he grinded against Natalie’s sensitive center. She clawed at his shoulders, scratching his skin as she desperately clung to him. Her moans burned against his skin and she pressed kisses to his collarbone and neck in between the frantic noises that escaped from her lips without her consent.

 

He was hot against her despite the rough fabric of his jeans separating them, Luce swore he could feel how wet Natalie was. He pulled her closer so her chest was flush with his, leaving Natalie whimpering in his ear when he bucked his hips into her, being sure to grind against her clit where he knew she wanted him. When he did, a breathy moan spilled from her lips and her legs tightened around his waist, keeping him flush against her.

 

Her fingernails dug so sharply into his skin when she choked out, “more,” that he thought she might draw blood, but the thought didn’t stop him from working his hips against hers. He ached to feel how wet he had made her against him, and he wanted her bare legs against his skin, despite how sexy the black stockings were, but by the way she was whimpering against him, and with the heat in his own blood, he didn’t dare stop.

 

Natalie was almost dizzy with sensation and her clit was still sensitive from his tongue. Each rough jerk of his clothed length against her threatened to make her scream. Tension held her body tight against him, and his strangled breathing and pounding heart matched her own when she bucked her hips against his, meeting him.

 

The whole front of his jeans was wet from her, but she didn’t have the thought to be embarrassed, all that mattered was him and _more._ She had never been so desperate in her life, and a fire burned low in her stomach that made her long to cum while also wanting to feel his skin against hers.

 

“I want,” Natalie gasped in his ear, “I want you inside of me.”

 

Luce shuddered at her words while he muttered something in Spanish and kissed her again, his mouth working furiously against hers and his hips matching the intensity.

 

It was too much and not enough all at once, and Luce almost shook from the heat that burned throughout his body, scorching the most intimate parts of himself that he never wanted Natalie to see, but her teeth scraped his skin and the thought was lost in a moan that he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of. He slurred a string of what Natalie suspected were swears, but she couldn’t understand a word that fell from his lips when his accent was so heavy on his tongue.

 

Natalie’s legs squeezed around Luce in response and she cried out his name when he bit a rough bruise into her neck, too high to hide without a scarf. The roughness of his teeth sent her hips canting against him again, and the coarseness of the denim in addition to the heat from his length was enough to set Natalie on the edge.

 

Reaching up, Natalie grabbed a handful of his dark hair and pulled when Luce dragged his hips languidly across hers again. The shaking of her legs and the tension in her muscles would have told him she was close even if she wasn’t whimpering the words against his skin, and he was almost teasing her by slowing his pace again.

 

Pulling hard on his hair, Natalie groaned, “fuck, no. Lucifer you’re not doing this again.”

 

His laugh was dark in her ear, and the rumble of it against her made her shiver, but he complied, obediently grinding his hips against her and grabbing her trembling thighs.

 

“Oh, oh, fuck,” Natalie breathed against him, her words sharp and in between gasps. Her back arched as she repeated the profanities and she came, her legs shaking violently despite Luce’s tight grip on her, and she grinded against him while she crashed over wave after wave. After a moment she gasped for breath, unsure of when she began holding it, and Luce sealed his lips over hers, groaning into her mouth as he followed her over the edge, spilling into his underwear.

 

The front of his jeans were already wet from her, but now they were sticky from him when he slowly pulled away from her, both of their chests flushed and sweaty from exertion. The air in the bakery felt too cold without Luce pressed against her, and Natalie shivered, putting a hand on his arm to kiss him again.

 

When he looked down at Natalie, her face was open and satisfied, and something too familiar and gentle lingered behind her eyes and he felt unclean, like he committed crimes he should be punished for. His boiling blood ran cold in his veins, and his hands froze on her hips, suddenly feeling clumsy and awkward. Confusion bloomed in Natalie’s eyes when she looked up at him, wondering why he was so stiff, and he pulled away completely from her.

 

He paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping over her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her hair was a tangled mess and it hung down over her chest, but couldn’t cover all the hickeys he bit into her skin, and her skirt was pulled up around her hips, leaving her bruised thighs exposed and still open. Her arousal made her legs shine and was dripping down to the hem of her stockings, and the taste of her still hung heavily on his tongue, making him burn slightly under her gentle gaze.

 

Shaking the heat away, he hastily pulled on his shirt, and did a single button at the bottom, briefly embarrassed that the stain on his jeans was still exposed and visible. Not taking the time to adjust, he threw on his customary leather jacket and pushed the door open. Cold air and joyful cheers celebrating the new year swept into the bakery, and Luce paused in the doorway to look back at her, his expression pained, before stepping out into the cold and leaving Natalie alone.

 

Her bakery had never felt so empty before, and her breath hitched in the darkness, tears welling up in her eyes as shame began to burn in her. She felt too exposed in the empty bakery now, and lingering arousal turned cold and her thighs felt scandalous and she wanted a hot shower to scrub away her humiliation.

 

Instead, she wiped her nose then drew her knees up to her chest as a form of cover and mumbled, “Happy New Year to me.”


	9. The End

The days ticked by like hours on a clock, and Natalie watched the snow from the new year melt into grey slush that people dragged into her bakery. The white snowman on her welcome mat turned nearly black, and when she rolled it up to throw in the trash, she choked back the tears she had wanted to cry since taking all of her Christmas decorations down.

 

The empty pink walls stared blankly back at her, burning the back of her neck when she turned to switch her oven on, so the very next day, Natalie went to the store and bought paint. After rolling up the sleeves of her dad’s old shirt, Natalie hummed to a soft pop song on the radio while she smeared light blue paint on the walls of her bakery, smoothing it over the imperfections and cracks that had formed on the worn walls of the old building.

 

She struggled to pop the tin lid off her second can of paint, and when she swept the brush over top of the door frame, she allowed the first tears to roll down her cheeks. They began a flood she did not try to stop, and she wiped her nose on a sleeve wet with paint and hiccupped. Her motions did not falter, and she made quick work of the walls, and when she stepped back to inspect it, she nodded in satisfaction.

 

With the smell of wet paint following her, Natalie boxed up the remaining winter decorations and pushed them to the back of the supply closet to sit in storage and wait for the next year. Without the snowflakes and twinkling lights she had grown accustomed to, the bakery felt brand new, but it felt like hers again. The blank walls were ripe with potential, and she took a breath to calm herself.

 

It would do her no good to mess up the paint when it was still wet. She would worry about decorations tomorrow. When she peeled off the old flannel shirt, it was stiff with the dried paint that was caked on the sleeves. Natalie glanced in the mirror, and saw blue paint on her nose that was now flaking, and when she turned her head, there was more in her hair.

 

The cold winter days had kept her inside too long, and her skin was so pale that she could see every imperfection in her face. Splotches of red were still on her cheeks from when she cried earlier, and the skin underneath her eyes was the same shade of purple that her mother was buried in. She thought back to endless nights without sleep, and turned to the shower.

 

The water was so hot that is made her skin ache and feel tight, but she didn’t flinch from it. She watched the blue paint wash down the drain, and she scrubbed her skin until it hurt, but she still felt unclean as the water swept over her.

 

Her apartment was frigid when she stepped out of the shower, and when the air wrapped around her, she shivered. The sweater she pulled on smelled like the laundry detergent from home, and hot tears threatened to well up in her eyes for a moment before she pushed them down.

 

It was too early to sleep when Natalie fell in bed, but that didn’t stop her from laying there anyway. The familiar cracks in her ceiling seemed so small now, and she wished she didn’t know how many there were without counting.

 

When she awoke, she didn’t remember falling asleep, and she thanked the stars above for a night without dreams.

* * *

 

Luce had a tight grip on the edge of the bathroom sink as he stared at his reflection, frowning at the stubble on his jaw that trailed down his neck. His brown eyes were tired, and he didn’t realize he had cut himself shaving until he saw the blood in the sink. The light bulb above the sink flickered, washing out his dark complexion and casting a yellow glow onto his skin that made him look pale and sickly.

 

He was dimly aware of the shouting from next door, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about his neighbors. The women would take care of themselves, just like always. He washed the blood down the sink with a spray of cold water and set his razor aside, not willing to bother with the rest of his face.

 

The stack of books next to his bed had dwindled down to nothing, and when he laid down, he thumbed through the messages Natalie had sent him after the new year’s evening. The same wall of texts faced him, and he read the list of questions back to himself although he had memorized her frantic messages long ago. Questions about where he went, what was wrong, and why wasn’t he coming back filled his inbox, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete them.

 

With his fingers hovering over the keys for a moment, Luce searched his mind for any sort of excuse to explain why he ran away and left her like that, so open and vulnerable, but as always, his words fell short, and he closed out of the message.

 

In her contact picture, Natalie was smiling wide, and the joy was evident in every line of her expression. He snapped the photo when she tore into his Christmas gift for her, and his heart had felt warm when she thanked him through her giggles. Now the sight of it made him feel cold and dirty, like he corrupted the joy of something that was never his to touch. She deserved so much better than him, and he knew it from the start, but now Luce burned with the guilt of a man who knew he wasn’t enough.

 

His heart hummed a soft cacophony inside of his chest when he closed his eyes. All he could see was her face and his blood ran scarlet when he remembered the feel of her mouth on his and how delicious her sighs sounded in his ears. His limbs were heavy with longing and attraction burned deep inside of him, but it blazed painfully when his mind looped the image of her sorrowful eyes as his own form of torture.

 

Luce’s chest heaved below his fingertips and he gasped for breath against the aching beats of regret. When he pulled himself out of his hard bed, he ran a hand through his loose hair, making a worse mess of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

A notification buzzed across his screen, and Luce sprang for his phone, desperate for anything from Natalie, but after seeing that it was from a friend, he let out of cry of frustration, angry that he had even let himself hope. He was the one ignoring her in the first place, why would she reach out when he had scorned her so many times? His mouth tasted bitter and Luce wished he wasn’t so disgusted with himself.

 

It was his own damn fault, but it still burned Luce to realize that he wasn’t the man he wanted to be.

* * *

 

January still loomed too cold for fresh flowers, but the end of the month seemed tantalizingly close, leaving Natalie desperate for a break from the cold weather. However, in a way, she was almost thankful for the rest of the cold month, as it was an excuse to wear layers in an attempt to coax warmth back into her fingers that always seemed to be cold now.

Her thick wool coat and flannel scarf weren’t enough to curb the chill, and Natalie was shivering by the time she reached the familiar thrift store. The inside of the store was warm in contrast to the bitter chill of the outside, and the heat coaxed her into unwinding her thick scarf and holding it while she slowly trekked around the dimly lit second hand shop that she had long grown accustomed to.

 

The elderly clerk didn’t even look up from his newspaper as Natalie carefully browsed. Her fingers trailed almost lovingly over sleeves of shirts, their fabrics ranging from thick and coarse, to silky and fine. The clerk flipped another page and Natalie wandered to the household section, questioning if the donated blenders and hair straighteners even worked.

 

Artificial flowers littered a shelf in front of her, reminding Natalie why she walked all the way there in the first place, and she picked out bouquets of plastic and silk flowers. Some of the petals were mangled and yellowed with age, but there was a quality of character she couldn’t leave behind as she carried armfuls of them up to the counter for the clerk to ring up.

 

She paid the total without hesitation, then backed out to the streets, her arms adorned with plastic bags that she paraded like high end jewelry. The cold air bit at her flushed cheeks, but she felt alive with possibility, and the cold winter air smelled almost sweet. When she unlocked the door to the bakery, she was greeted by the smell of fresh paint, and she almost stumbled back at the unfamiliarity of the blue walls. 

 

Digging back in her storage closet, Natalie carried out vases, baskets, and wreaths from storage, indiscriminate of their condition so long as they could hold flowers. She filled the empty spaces of her bakery with the bouquets, lining shelves with them, and leaving no table unscathed. Petals littered the front register and the corner of her display case, breathing life back into her bakery that had been dead for too long.

 

When she looked around, finally satisfied with the arrangement, Natalie felt disappointment burn in her cheeks. The flowers didn’t make her happy.

 

Her heartbreak threatened to turn to tears, and she wanted _so badly_ for the flowers to make her happy. Instead, hot anger inched up her face and Natalie cursed Luce’s name. It was his damn fault she felt so empty, it was his fault that her body still felt unclean when she looked at herself in the mirror, and it was his fault that her cheeks burned with shame when she laid in bed at night replaying his touches in her head on an endless loop that burned behind her eyes until eventually she fell into fitful sleep. It was his fault.

 

Crying out in frustration, Natalie dropped the fake flowers she had mangled and saw blood on her fingers from where the rigid plastic had cut her. She hobbled to the sink and washed the blood away, watching it swirl down the drain and disappear like her anger as she slumped against the cold stainless steel of her counter.

 

Her bedroom was quiet that night, and Natalie’s green eyes stared back at her in the mirror, listless and cold like a wide field that had fallen too in love with summer, and was surprised by the first frost of the impending winter. The grass had been rolled over by the icy fingers of early October, when it seemed far too early for snow. The nights had been cut short, leaving the days darker, and Natalie blinked back at her reflection before crawling into her bed. She did not dream.

 

Natalie woke up with the sun, and she traipsed downstairs to her bakery knowing she could postpone the daily routine no longer. Pulling her familiar pink apron over her head, Natalie turned her oven on, slowly coaxing heat into both the metal oven, and her bakery. The fresh paint smell had not yet faded, but the smell of vanilla cupcakes soon washed it out, and when Natalie flipped her open sign over, she felt life spark back into her fingertips.

 

When her first customer entered into her bakery, the smile on Natalie’s face was natural.

 

Cupcakes sold as fast as Natalie could make them, and her regular customers showered her in compliments about the new paint color, and the flowers. It seemed everyone was ready for an early welcome to spring, and her customers passed her friendly laughs and smiles when she handed over their treats.

 

Several customers asked about the absence of her usually abundant chocolate cupcakes, and Natalie lied each time, blaming her forgetful mind. She couldn’t tell them that the sight of the chocolate in her cabinet made her heart freeze when she remembered the taste of chocolate in Luce’s kiss. Instead, she filled their spot with cupcakes filled with peppermint. Their taste was a little sharp, but the winter air called for nothing less.

 

When the time came to close, Natalie found herself stalling, not ready for her steady stream of customers to leave and take the comfort of their chatter and presence with them. However, the hour dragged on, and the last customers eventually left, stopping briefly at the coat rack to bundle themselves up before bidding Natalie goodnight and venturing out into the cold. She flipped her sign to close, and slowly began to wipe away the remnants of the day.

 

Tables and chairs were put back in order, and crumbs from her treats were swept away. Natalie packed away her remaining cupcakes, leaving the glass of her display case for last. As she wiped away the fingerprints, she imagined she was pressing reset on the day, and the thought exhausted her, despite her rush from earlier.

 

Natalie’s bright red hair hung in her face, her loose bun coming undone in a way that made her look unpolished, and when she tugged off her apron, she mussed it farther. She couldn’t be bothered to smooth it, and when Natalie turned to switch off the lights in the kitchen, she was startled by the bell above her door announcing that someone had walked in.

 

She spun in shock, her heart racing when she made eye contact with Luce, and she took in his appearance. His usual boots were loosely tied, and dark stubble made his face seem gaunt under the dim light of her bakery. Something sad lingered behind his eyes, but when Natalie held his gaze, anger boiled underneath her skin, making her feel too tight.

 

After a beat too long, Luce opened his mouth to offer an explanation, but Natalie cut him off, “How dare you show up like this.”

 

“Natalie -“ Luce began, his voice smaller than she’d ever heard it, but she cut him off.

 

“No. You don’t get to come in and expect everything to be okay after you just left!” She huffed, her hands balling into fists at her sides, “you didn’t text, you didn’t call. Damn it, Lucifer, you couldn’t even be bothered to reply.”

 

Natalie stepped closer, her words becoming daggers that stabbed Luce with every point she made, because he knew she was right, and he knew he deserved her anger.

 

“I was worried about you, Lucifer,” she almost sobbed, jabbing her finger into his chest, “I was w _orried_ about you, and you didn’t even reply.”

 

Luce’s eyebrows pinched together in concern, and guilt had written itself into his features. The accusations burned his ears, but he knew he warranted every one she was throwing at him, and then some. It was almost a relief to have her yelling at him, because he was there, and she was still beautiful and passionate. Her anger radiated through her, and Luce was glad that she hadn’t shut him out. He was so grateful that she was throwing fire at him, because he was still worthy of her raw emotions.

 

He sighed, “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“Bull shit you are,” she accused, “if you were sorry you would have replied. You would have come to see me three weeks ago. You wouldn’t have left in the first place.”

 

“I know,” Luce agreed, watching her red face flush with a new round of anger, and his hands itched to smooth her loose hair away from her face.

 

“I didn’t deserve that, Luce. I felt dirty. I felt _used_. Did you ever care about me, or was I just another girl that you left behind when you got tired of me?” She was practically spitting in his face, but behind the hot anger in her eyes, he could see the sadness lingering in the green he sorely missed.

 

Instead of a reply, or a response, Luce cupped her face and said, “I would never grow tired of you, Natalie. I’m sorry. I’m so _so_ sorry.”

 

“You _hurt_ me,” Natalie practically whispered.

 

“I know. I’m not a good man, Natalie, but I never wanted that. Please, please believe that I am truly sorry to have caused you pain, and I’m sorry I was so fucking selfish.”

 

He brushed a tear off her cheek that she didn’t know she had cried, and her lips trembled when she told him, “please go.”

 

“Natalie, wait –“

 

“ _Please,_ Lucifer. Please.”

 

She turned away from him, and his hands were warm. He missed the softness of her skin underneath his fingertips, but the memory was tinged with bitterness now.

 

When he left the bakery, the wind was beginning to swirl outside, but he never felt the cold. 

 

Natalie was sick of feeling the hot tears running down her cheeks that had started when Luce left her bakery, and she scrubbed her face with water until it hurt.

* * *

 

She fell into bed, grief washing over her when she rolled to face wrinkled white sheets. She didn’t understand how her bed could feel so empty when no one had ever slept in it beside her. The empty silence echoed around her bedroom, bouncing off her crowded walls covered with posters, and eventually whispering promises to the plants she had sitting on her windowsill.

 

Freezing rain tapped gently on her windows, sprinkling down ominous threats of slick roads and ice for the coming morning.

 

Despite the inclement weather, her room felt surprisingly warm, like a heavy blanket had been drawn over her doorway, blocking in heat and letting it pool near the floorboards. The rain and comfort of her room promised to lure her into a dreamless sleep, and let her forget about Luce’s face and the devastation she could read so easily in his expression.

 

Cursing the image of him, she rolled over, wishing she had locked the door that very first night he had arrived, but the thought evaporated like smoke when she remembered Christmas. Natalie replayed the joy in her dad’s face when he saw Luce, how warm Luce was next to her in her bed, and how he had complied with the Christmas sweater rule with minimal complaints. She pictured his tattoos, and hated that she still could recreate them with her eyes closed, every black line and curve. Going further back, she thought about the Thanksgiving play and watching the muscles in his arms work as he carried in stacks of cupcakes for her.

 

Memories of him speaking Spanish flashed through her mind, making the warmth oppressive, and she kicked her covers off, leaving her legs exposed to the air. She flopped back over to watch the rain fall past her window, and freeze whenever it struck the glass. Headlights rolled by, disappearing below into the streets, and Natalie sat up in alarm. It wasn’t supposed to be this warm in her room when it was freezing outside.

 

Shoving her feet into a pair of slippers, Natalie plodded down the stairs while brushing her loose hair out of her face. When she entered her kitchen, she inspected the oven carefully, and then sheepishly switched it off, embarrassed she had left it on in the first place. Natalie hesitated for a moment after she turned to go upstairs, and crept to the front door to double check that it was locked, since she had already forgotten one task that evening.

 

The bolt was securely in place, and when she looked up, she locked eyes with someone standing outside the door. Natalie jolted, recoiling back in surprise and fear at the sight of a large man standing outside her store front, but on closer inspection, she recognized the angular features of Luce.

 

The cold rain made his figure almost sag, and Natalie threw the door open, ignoring the wisps of cold that curled into her bakery like vipers. The raindrops bit like fangs against her skin, and Natalie pulled Luce inside. His hands were shaking when she curled her fingers around them.

 

Luce didn’t say anything when Natalie pulled him, and he followed her quietly up the steps to her bedroom where she helped him peel off his soaked leather jacket, and then the shirt underneath. His skin was cold beneath her fingers, and Natalie wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, being careful not to brush his skin too much.

 

Eventually, Natalie stepped back and Luce looked down at her, straightening from his lean against her bathroom counter. His hair was damp and hung down straight in front of his eyes, and Natalie slid her fingers through it, slicking his dark hair back so she could see his face better. He couldn’t meet her eyes for long, and he memorized the pattern of the tiles on her floor.

 

“I couldn’t go home, Natalie,” Luce nearly whispered, her name sounding like a broken plea, “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I, I couldn’t.”

 

Natalie nodded, not trusting her voice, especially when his words and rough voice had sent shivers down her spine. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t discovered him standing outside her bakery, looking torn and terrified all at the same time. The fear hadn’t disappeared now that he was inside, but the hesitation was replaced by the heavy weight of regret.

 

His wet boots were set aside in the corner, and the black leather could almost be rung out. His shirt was in a crumpled heap at his feet, and Luce’s skin felt tight within the confines of Natalie’s small bathroom. Despite being water logged, the smell of his cologne still lingered heavily around him, and Natalie traced a finger along his arm, not realizing how badly she had missed his steady presence until he was in front of her. Standing in front of him made her disappear in the bathroom mirror, and she could see the muscles in his shoulders move whenever a shiver tore through his body.

 

His fingers were cold when he caught her hand and held it, his eyes meeting hers in search of answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. Natalie trailed a finger along his jawline, catching a drop of water that was threatening to drip down Luce’s neck, and his breath hitched. The deep brown of his eyes held promises of spring, and in the dim light of her bathroom, they both desperately longed for warmth.

 

Luce was almost breathless when he spoke, “I was such a coward, Natalie. I ran because I felt like I ruined something, like I ruined you,” he paused, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, “I could never deserve you, Natalie. I knew that from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

 

It was Natalie’s turn to shudder, and she was at a loss for words, “Luce –“

 

“I love you, Natalie.” The words sounded like he was confessing to a crime, “I know I’ve got a pretty fucked up way of showing it, but please –“

 

“I know,” Natalie sighed, “I know you’re sorry, and that you need me to forgive you, but damn it, Luce, I already did. I wanna be mad, but you make it so hard, you softie.”

 

The end of her words came out in almost a bitter laugh, and Natalie stepped closer to Luce, amazed at how he managed to make her feel so small even when he was wrapped in a purple blanket. The lighting fixture above the sink cast dark shadows on Luce’s face, making the angles seem harsher, despite the worried creases in his forehead. Confusion and concern played across his face like actors in a scene as Luce struggled to understand and accept the forgiveness that Natalie had so easily given him. He was ready to beg, but it seemed like Natalie would never stop surprising him.

 

Looking down, Luce caught Natalie’s eyes, and she placed her hands on his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones that were still pale from his wait outside. Natalie held his eyes with intensity that made Luce want to look away, but he stared back, unwilling to shrink from her. His eyes were half lidded when he looked down at her, and the stubble on his cheeks was rough on Natalie’s palms.

 

His lips tasted like rain and a winter evening when she kissed him. It made her blood run red and heat blossomed in Luce’s chest, chasing away the lingering cold that threated to keep a hold on him. He didn’t hesitate to kiss Natalie back, but she flinched away from the hand he placed on her hip, and fussed about his cold fingers.

 

She felt him smile against her lips, and she almost laughed, “now you don’t run off this time, okay?”

 

“Never,” Luce swore, over and over, in between the light kisses he pressed to her lips.

 

Natalie sighed when she stepped back, “Good. All this time I thought you just wanted me for my cupcakes.”

 

“I mean, they are pretty great,” Luce caught a glare from Natalie, but didn’t drop the sarcasm, “but they weren’t the main draw.”

 

His cheeky statement was rewarded with a loud bark of laughter before Natalie was shoving him out of her bathroom, “I’ll kick you out into the rain again, don’t act like I won’t.”

 

“I wouldn’t doubt it, girl.” 

* * *

 

Luce pulled Natalie to his chest as they laid in her bed, and the sun had just begun to peek lazily over the top of the light cloud cover that had settled over the city during the night. It was much too early for Luce to be awake, and he groaned into Natalie’s ear, complaining about the early hour.

 

Natalie had no desire to leave her warm bed and Luce, but the bakery had to be opened and cupcakes had to be made. When she reminded Luce of that fact, he mumbled something about closing the bakery today, and Natalie laughed.

 

“You know good and well I can’t do that. I’ve got _regulars,_ ” Natalie explained, “they would have a fit.”

 

His reply was swallowed by the pillow he was hugging, and Natalie snatched it, nudging him with her shoulder to get him to wake up, “C’mon. We’ll get you something sweet.”

 

Natalie could hear Luce’s joints pop as he shifted over so he could see her, and he teased, his voice gravely with sleep, “Why would I need that when I’ve already got you?”

 

Natalie tossed the pillow she was holding at Luce, hitting him in the chest and making his grin wider, and she rolled her eyes. When she turned to walk to the bathroom to get ready, a smile tugged on the corner of her lips that stayed there for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story from the beginning until the end!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> This fic and all others can be found on my tumblr account under my writing tag  
> cosmicallybrownie.tumblr.com/tagged/hot-off-the-presses


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